Some 1,800 breakfasts, lunches and dinners were served to skid row residents Oct. 8 during the third-annual outreach fair sponsored and staffed by the grassroots group Giving Back Hope, Inc., based at Divine Savior Church in Cypress Park.

But even more impressive --- and, hopefully, long-lasting --- 10 service providers offering drug and alcohol treatment, mental health counseling, housing and job readiness training handed out information about their programs.

As a result, three individuals agreed to go into residential recovery programs immediately. Others said they would think about it.

This might seem insignificant with estimates of skid row's indigent population ranging from 1,500 to 15,000. But organizers of the day-long, outdoor event on blocked-off Sixth Street, from San Pedro Street to Stanford Avenue, believe if only a few lives can be radically changed --- along with raising awareness of the plight of the area's men, women and families --- it was worth the efforts of the 50-plus Giving Back Hope volunteers.

"I think we're helping more people to get off the streets," said Sergio Negrete, who in 1999 started leading a group of friends to skid row on Sundays with sack lunches to give out. "At last year's street fair, only one person went into residential treatment, and this year three did it. So that's something. We try our best to let these people know that there are these services available."

The 43-year-old Angeleno was an addict himself for 17 years, living on skid row for nine months and sleeping in alleys. At some point he just got tired of the terrible daily struggle to survive and checked himself into detox at a local hospital. After, he stayed at a recovery house in San Pedro for three months.

The "seed" for change was planted, but he still went back to the streets for another two years. After a second detox session, he knew he needed long-term help. So he returned home to his wife and kids and started going to Narcotics Anonymous meetings.

Negrete went back to school, studying for a drug and alcohol certificate at Glendale City College. Today he is a counselor for Behavioral Health Services, working at a recovery center in Inglewood. So the founder and CEO of Giving Back Hope, Inc., knows well about being down and out in L.A. from two perspectives.

"And that's how I finally got clean in 1994," he explained, while the hard rock band Revolucion played at the end of the street. "It is hard, but it is possible. Now I have six kids, and I'm able to be there for them. If there wasn't any kind of help out there, I don't know, man."

Chicken fajitas
Ten mostly Hispanic women were serving dinners of chicken fajitas, rice, beans and bowls of rice pudding to a long line of mostly African American men. John Romero stood at the end of the pushed-together tables, handing out plastic forks wrapped in white napkins.

Romero read about Giving Back Hope's community outreach in The Tidings. And for the last three months, the 56-year-old retired UPS worker has been helping to make lunches and take them down to skid row the second Sunday of every month.

"This is really rewarding," he said. "It humbles you. It makes you appreciate what you have very much. And it's a way to give back. It's one of the corporal works of mercy. Our Lord said a cup of water given in my name won't go unnoticed, and this is a small way of doing that."

His UPS driver's route took him near and sometimes into skid row. But he thought most people stay away from the area like it was Baghdad. He has been trying for weeks to get others from his parish, St. Hilary's in Pico Rivera, to come with him with no luck. He figures they are probably afraid of the folks who wind up here because of drug abuse or mental illness.

But Romero believed it was his Catholic duty to be on the line today handing out forks.

"I look at these people," he mused, "and even though some of them are so disoriented on drugs or whatever, they're put on this earth for a purpose. I mean, God created them, and he loves them just as much as he loves me or the next guy.

"They have a soul, and they all want to be saved. Our Lord wants them to be saved. Maybe we can reach out to one or two or whatever. But that's not my call."

This was Donald Bell's first time at the Giving Back Hope event, although he's been in and out of skid row for more than 25 years. He landed here because of "divorce reasons," and after a while just became part of the environment. He said life on the row had both good and atrocious moments.

On his limited disability income, the 53-year-old soft-spoken man lives in a hotel at Fifth and Main. The inexpensive $300 rent is the big reason he continues to reside here. He would move out tomorrow if he could find a place as cheap in another part of the city.

Bell thought the outreach fair was a good idea, but it only happened once a year. He'd like to see more organizations, church and secular, venturing to skid row with concrete solutions to Los Angeles' growing social problems.

"Overall, I think just more people coming down here and actually doing hands-on stuff as far as helping with finances, helping with people finding places to stay and helping with health care would mean a lot," he said. "Housing is a huge issue. If somebody could come to me and say, 'I'm going to take you by the hand, and I'm going to guide you through the housing process,' I would go for it."