As soon as she hears the knock at the parish center, Marion Thoele grabs one of the brown bag sack lunches off the kitchen table and walks over to the side door. She smiles, recognizing one of the homeless regulars who shows up every Wednesday and Friday morning like clockwork.
John, a 35-year-old casually dressed, clean-cut man, returns her gaze. "Hi," he says, adding "thanks" when the church receptionist hands him the brown paper bag.
Just another small act of Christian charity at a local Catholic parish, probably in a poor part of town, right?
Wrong.
This altruistic scene played out Jan. 13 at Good Shepherd in Beverly Hills. And it illustrates one of the major findings of the 2005 Greater Los Angeles Homeless Count, the most detailed census of the homeless population in Los Angeles County every conducted, and released a day earlier: Homeless men, women and children are living on the streets and in shelters not just in L.A.'s infamous Skid Row but across the Southland.
Although the final report of the extensive count (which took place over three days last January and involved 1,000 enumerators) found that 20,000 of Los Angeles County's 88,345 homeless on any given night are concentrated in metropolitan Los Angeles, it also found that the homeless are geographically dispersed across the region.
More than 20,000 homeless people, in fact, are living in the San Fernando and San Gabriel valleys. Some 2,500 can be found in Brentwood, Pacific Palisades, Marina del Rey and other nearby upscale communities.
Enumerators also counted more than 2,000 homeless people in the Los Angeles City Council district that takes in Encino, Sherman Oaks, Westwood and Century City. And in the Fifth District, which borders the city of Beverly Hills, the number was 2,066.
Homeless from here
Another discovery shattered the popular belief that the sunny Southland is a mecca for the nation's homeless, drawing down-and-outers from cold-weather states like New York and Illinois. Nearly four-out-of-five of the homeless surveyed were residents of Los Angeles County before becoming homeless.
"We do not have a situation where hordes are coming in from outside of our county," reported Owen Newcomer, chair of the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority commission, which sponsored the homeless count. "They are individuals with us today that tomorrow are going to be homeless."
Moreover, "We now know that the typical homeless person resembles the characteristics of many of our low-income families and individuals," he pointed out.
These poor people had few safety nets. Many of the almost 3,300 questioned more thoroughly in a field survey were getting by until they experienced a sudden financial setback or personal tragedy.
More than half reported that they weren't living in permanent housing because they simply couldn't afford the rent. About a quarter said unemployment or losing their job was the primary cause of their homelessness. Almost 35 percent said they had a physical disability and 34 percent a mental disability. Nearly 45 percent reported that they weren't getting money from any government sources.
The count also found that 34,512 individuals were chronically homeless, meaning they had a disability condition and had been continuously homeless for at least a year, or they had experienced four or more homeless episodes in the last three years.
Besides the homeless count in 500 census tracks and an in-depth survey of homeless people, the study included a telephone survey. A state-of-the-art statistical analysis by UCLA researchers was used to project homelessness in non-enumerated areas. Applied Survey Research of Watsonville conducted the comprehensive investigation.
No political hype
Until now, homeless estimates of 80,000 were considered "political hyperbole," declared Major Antonio Villaraigosa at the Jan. 12 press conference, held in the courtyard of the 39 West Apartments, a permanent supportive housing project for formerly homeless people with mental illness.
But today, he noted, everyone knew that L.A. is "ground zero" for America's homeless crisis.
"A number that wasn't mentioned: There are 10,000 homeless children in the County of Los Angeles today," he said. "Think about that. Ten thousand homeless children --- more than 222,000 in a year. That's two cities, Glendale and Pasadena, put together. These are staggering numbers."
The mayor also seemed astounded by the fact that 20 percent of the homeless population are families, 46 percent have a substance abuse problem, 34 percent are suffering from severe mental illness, 18 percent are veterans, nine percent are victims of domestic violence --- and 39 percent are chronically homeless living in what he described as a "seemingly unbreakable cycle of homelessness."
"So we have big challenges," he said. "And the question is, what are we going to do?"
Villaraigosa noted that new money had been anted up by federal ($60 million), state (Prop 63 provides funding to address mental illness, particularly for homeless people), county ($24.6 million for shelter and services) and city ($50,000 for housing and services) governments to tackle the difficult problem.
"You're going to see a very aggressive major and political leadership on this issue," he promised. "We're putting out money for permanent supportive housing, and the county has put up an unprecedented amount of money in that regard.
"So we're committed to ending homelessness," he said, "and beginning the progress by having quantifiable progress here in the City of Los Angeles.
But Jan Perry, councilwoman of the ninth district, which includes downtown's Skid Row, struck a more somber note.
"This report today should serve as a major warning so that we can understand the magnitude of the problem in our Los Angeles region, and how far we need to go to actually impact it," she said. "Affordable housing is simple out of reach for far too may people, especially low-income people on fixed incomes. Many CAL-WORKS [the state's public work-welfare program] families are using as much as 95 percent of their benefits on rent.
"This data on homelessness," she added, "is the strongest indication we have about how our systems have failed to develop programs that effectively address the issues of homelessness."
'Doing right by me'
John, who preferred not to give his last name, has been coming to Good Shepherd's parish center in Beverly Hills almost every week for four years. He says it's one of the better run "lines." His only complaint is when he opens his sack lunch and finds a baloney sandwich. "I don't like baloney," he says. "But what are you going to do? It's free."
The 35-year-old man lives in Santa Monica because there is a shower under the pier that's open from 5 to 9 a.m. With the public shower, he doesn't have to walk around all day feeling like a "scum bag."
He sleeps in a freeway median of an off-ramp, on-ramp because it's safe and people won't bother him. His covered bed is a cardboard box. His main source of income is the $198 General Relief check he gets at the beginning of every month. He calls it his "sanity money," and buys something he wants or needs. The rest of the month, he hits the lines for food and clothing.
John doesn't like to stay in any one place long. And he hates downtown, which he visits only to use the city's main library. He says anybody living on Skid Row is there for drugs or booze --- period.
When he talks about not practicing "the five Ps" of homelessness, he sounds earnest and more than a little proud.
"I don't panhandle. I don't push a shopping cart. I don't pick the garbage. I don't prostitute myself. And I don't pretend to be something I'm not," he says, adding with a grin, "Hey, if all these homeless who claim they were in Vietnam were actually in Vietnam, that would be the biggest war in history."
And when asked how he became homeless, John says it's not a "becoming" thing. He just is homeless.
"I haven't been able to deal with certain things about people and the system," he explains matter of factly. "It's just the system, the structure, the ways things are and where I fit in and where I don't fit in, and how I manage this.
"I don't want to be just a cog in a wheel," John observes like some alienated student radical from the '60s. "I don't want to be a 'responsible citizen,' you know. I just want to look myself in the mirror and say, 'OK, I'm doing right by me --- not by society's check list.'" Part II |