Whenever we actually think about the homelessness in our cities, what often comes to mind are down-and-out men drinking out of paper bags, lying in doorways or panhandling on freeway on- and off-ramps.

More well-informed urbanites might even shake their heads at the startling statistics on homeless mothers with children. (Thirty five percent of the 3.5 million people who experienced homelessness last year were families with children. The vast majority of these were single moms with kids.)

Maybe we've heard on National Public Radio or read in Newsweek that families are the fastest growing segment of the homeless population.

But who really knows anything about an almost invisible part of our U.S. homeless scene, even though it first came to light more than a decade ago and has continued to steadily increase - single homeless fathers?

Men with children

We're on our way from the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority's downtown office on South Spring Street to a shelter in East L.A. called Comunidad Cesar Chavez. Rudy Salinas, an outgoing young man who supervises LAHSA's Emergency Response Team, is talking about how hard it is to find housing for homeless dads with children.

"The problem is very obvious when you call a shelter and tell them you have a man with one or two children who are homeless and you need space," he says. "Shelters usually accept women with kids. In some cases, they'll take a woman with her husband. But rarely - if ever - will a shelter accept men with children.

"It's very rare to come across a guy who has decided to take the kids with him and try to support himself and his children," Salinas points out. "But the number of men with children is increasing."

Daniel Seidner made that radical decision.

The 48-year-old college graduate from Woodland Hills had jobs in retail, working his way up to managing stores like Chief Auto Parts, until he hurt his back on the job and had to have major surgery. And after two years on Workers' Compensation, he couldn't find another job.

At first, living on his injury settlement, he wasn't worried. But eventually he went through his savings and the settlement, running up $28,000 on credit cards. About the same time, his marriage fell apart. His wife got custody of their three daughters, while he continued to look for work.

Suspecting his ex-wife was using drugs and neglecting their youngest daughter, Seidner gained legal custody of 11-year-old Jennifer last March. After living with his two grown-up daughters in Arizona for a while, they returned to Southern California, staying with his brother for a month, then his mother.

Finally, help - for now

Still unemployed and getting desperate, he finally went to the Department of Public Social Services in Orange County.

"I got lucky and connected with the right man at DPSS, who channeled me into this program," he says, showing a visitor around his bright apartment at Comunidad Cesar Chavez, with two sets of bunk-beds, a kitchen nook with a refrigerator and four-burner stove, and small living room.

Seider also appreciates the weekly therapy sessions and monthly appointments with a psychiatrist for his depression and insomnia. He says his caseworker at the Homeless Families CalWorks Project has been real helpful.

But he doesn't like the inner-city neighborhood where the two tan stucco buildings are located, pointing out that Jennifer is the only white girl in her public school. Two days ago, he reports, there was a gang shooting right out front of the shelter, which houses 25 units just for homeless families.

And, of course, he's worried about their future when the four-month transitional housing program is over. Will he have enough money saved up from monthly benefits of $584 and $180 in food stamps to get into an apartment - even with some assistance from LAHSA?

"I'm very concerned for Jennifer," he confides, getting up and walking around. "I don't know where we're going from here. Ultimately, I want to get a job. I just need somebody to give me a job."

Invisible homeless families

The homeless were back in L.A.'s news - at least for a nano-moment or two. Last month, a patrolling LAPD captain allegedly witnessed Los Angeles County sheriff deputies dropping off a disheveled young man on San Julian Street in Skid Row.

The witness, Captain Andrew Smith, was outraged, telling Los Angeles Times reporters what he had long suspected: that other police agencies "are dumping homeless, drunks, narcotic addicts and the criminal population into the downtown area.... We're fed up with it."

Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa was equally incensed. He ordered the city attorney to investigate the "legal recourses" Los Angeles had against such dumping.

'Nobody would take us'

Like many people, Michael Matthews of Long Beach didn't have a clue about homeless fathers' difficulties until he - and his three-year-old daughter Melody - found themselves homeless.

The 43-year-old dad says he separated from an abusive wife with mental and drug abuse problems, taking with him his two step-daughters and youngest daughter. But soon all three were given back to his wife by local police because he didn't have legal custody.

Months later, after his wife was reported to Child Protective Services for child neglect, he was awarded temporary custody and later permanent custody of Melody.

Soon Matthews, who worked at sales and marketing jobs plus wrote TV scripts on the side, had used up much of his savings from staying in motels. And when he applied to shelters, he found out a bitter truth.

"When I finally had Melody, there was no place that would take me with my daughter," he reports. "They had families, but not a man with his kids. We kept calling places and nobody would take us. The Veterans wouldn't even take me, and I'm a vet."

So he and his daughter wound up at the Catholic Worker hospitality house in Santa Ana, where they stayed for about five months.

Caring at Catholic Charities

Then they moved into a motel in Long Beach to be closer to her school and his job as a loan officer in Signal Hill. He soon realized if he kept paying motel rates and eating out all the time, however, he'd never be able to save up first- and last-month's move-in costs to get an apartment.

But after waiting nearly a year, the Matthews family got into Catholic Charities' Elizabeth Ann Seton Residence in Long Beach, where the homeless father was able to save almost 100 percent of his income. And last week they moved out of the emergency shelter to a room in a private home, hoping soon to be living in their very own apartment.

"Mainly, staying at the Catholic Charities shelter helped me save a little money because they provided everything - food, personal items, everything," he says. "And then the mental thing. Just being able to rest my mind. Jason [Goade], the social worker, and I would talk.

"Plus the caring. Overall, these are sincere, caring people who are really trying to help you, and not just with money. They don't treat you like you're dirt. They treat you with dignity and respect. I would almost say love, you know."

Matthews says being a homeless dad was hard. Real hard. It completely changed his attitude about the homeless - especially about parents on their own.

"I think about all these single women struggling," he says. "I have the biggest compassion and admiration for them now. Because I see how tough it is. And I think it's even harder on homeless fathers.

"I mean, it almost broke me down," he adds. "I literally was crying to the judge trying to get custody: 'What if this was your child?' I just kept trusting in the Lord and praying. So I have to give God all the glory and credit."