A landmark first-ever head count last year made it official. With 91,000 men, women and children found living on the street or in shelters and cars every night, Los Angeles was tagged the homeless capital of the United States.

Now the City of the Angels and Los Angeles County, according to some significant social indicators, are also home to the most number of Americans who work but still find themselves mired in poverty.

The vast majority of the 3.9 million poor residents of the county who qualify for government assistance live in working households. These down-and-out folks are hotel housekeepers, janitors, garment laborers and parking lot attendants. But they're also teachers, healthcare practitioners and actors.

It's difficult to fathom how individuals and families with at least one member working full time can be poor. Census data is too dry to explain it. And scholarly reports by sociologists and economists emphasize the "statistically significant" at the expense of personal accounts.

The only way to really comprehend this troubling - and growing - social dilemma is to look closely at the lives of these hard-working Angelenos, letting them explain their lives in their own words.

More work, less benefits
Immacula Rene looks pretty cool marching on the picket line during her lunch break in front of the LAX Hilton Hotel. She has on her light green housekeeper's uniform and dark sun glasses, and is holding a bottle of water.

"It's just terrible," she tells a reporter. "We're working so hard over here. We don't get no respect. They treat us like we're nothing. And I'm working at $9.32 an hour after 11 years.

"It's so hard and there is too much work to do. They give you 16 rooms. And sometimes they try to push you to do extra, like 17 or 18 rooms. You know, it's too much. When we try to say no, the supervisor gets upset.

"I need full-medical," the diabetic woman adds. "When I go to the doctor, I have to spend my own money. We have insurance through the hotel, but it don't cover the whole thing. I pay $260 a month for my family. But it don't cover. It don't cover."

The 40-year-old mother of three from Haiti says her job has gotten harder and workload greater over the last decade because the hotel mattresses are thicker and heavier. Every housekeeper she knows has problems with her shoulders and arms.

Then she talks about her friend Angie, who had to have surgery because her elbow bone wore down from all the lifting. Angie's been out of work for two years.

"The mattress is heavy. The vacuum is heavy. The cart where we put all the cleaning materials is very heavy to push, too," she reports. "All that causes you to get body aches.

"Thank God I have never gotten hurt bad on the job. But my back is so bad. It's painful. Those mattresses are killers. Plus, there's more bedding. Every room has three sheets and eight pillows with double beds."

Most days, Rene says she's overburdened during her 8 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. shift. When a new group of guests comes in, she works through her breaks and 30-minute lunch period to clean rooms on the fifth floor.

When she gets back to her Inglewood home, she doesn't sit down on the sofa until all her own housework is done. Otherwise, she falls asleep.

"My children say, 'Momma, what happened?'" she reports. "I can't even talk. I'm so tired. I'm dead."

It's her children Rene worries about - 17-year-old Patrick and Susan, 21. If her boyfriend wasn't working two jobs, they could never afford to send Susan to community college.

"Alone, I don't make enough money to save any for them to go to college, "she points out. "And they are working so hard in school to be a success. Putting our paychecks together, we can survive. But sometimes we wonder how are we going to pay our bills.

"I would try to change my job, but I'm getting old now. I don't want to go to another place and have the same old things again. So I'm staying here at the Hilton to see if things are going to be changed and get better.

"That's why I'm out here marching today," the housekeeper explains. "Hey, I've got to fight for what I believe. We're going to fight until they sign a union contract."

Two jobs but still struggling
In his crisp navy suit, white shirt and matching blue-pattern tie, William Edwards looks like he could be a vice president for one of the corporate tenants in the 22-story stone and tinted glass high-rise.

Instead the 40-year-old father of three is the post commander security officer of 915 Wilshire Blvd. And unlike the corporate managers he knows by name, Edwards has no stock options, 401K retirement plan or bonus incentives for coordinating the day-to-day protection of the multi-million dollar office tower.

In fact, the South Los Angeles resident has no family health plan. He receives no annual paid sick leave. And he earns $10.30 an hour, or $21,424 a year - if he doesn't get ill and docked for taking off sick days.

"The good part is I've been in the same building for almost five years, so I've developed a relationship with a lot of these people and even have some friendships," he says in a deep, no-nonsense baritone voice. "I see the same people every day, so it's almost like an extended family to me.

"The bad part is they pretty much expect us to be here every day. If you call in sick, you're not going to get paid. Say you're sick for a couple of days, that's two days worth of pay taken out of your check. And if you're already not making that much money to begin with, two days is really going to hurt."

Of course, there's no personal days, either, working for ACSS (American Commercial Security Services), one of the largest employers of security officers in the nation.

So Edwards can't afford to take off even to be home with his wife, Tara, when her back flares up and she has to stay in bed. Since a bathtub fall five years ago, she has been unable to go back to work at a private school bus company.

"She's at home, and I'm not able to be there to care for her - and right now I really need to be there because she's pretty much bed-ridden," he explains. "It's painful to watch your wife like that and you really can't be there for her. But I've still got rent, bills, three kids who are growing every day and a car payment. You know, food, clothes, just the basic necessities of everyday life."

To meet these basic necessities, Edwards recently took on a second full-time job as a night stocker at a Wal-Mart in the City of Industry. That means he works a grueling 16 ½ hours, with two hours of driving, five days a week.

After his 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. security guard tour, he picks up Aaron, 13, Pamela, 11, and Gwendolyn, 6, at school and is usually home by 4:30 p.m. Maybe he gets to sleep for a couple of hours before getting ready to head to Wal-Mart, where he must clock in by 9 p.m.

When he leaves the super-store the next morning at 5:45 a.m., he drives directly to 915 Wilshire Blvd. He keeps the navy suit uniform in his van and changes when he arrives at his day job a little before seven o'clock.

So when does he sleep?

The hard-working husband and father chuckles at the query. "I get little cat naps in here and there," he says. "But I haven't gotten a full day of rest in I couldn't even begin to tell you."

Still, even with the breadwinner holding down two jobs, the Edwards family struggles. William is way behind on car payments for the 2001 GMC Safari van. He knows the finance company could take it back any day, which would be disastrous with his tight schedule.

"With the way things are now, I absolutely see no future in being in security - not if I want to be able to take care of my family," says the post commander. "Our only hope is to organize."