The Lost, The Cold and The Fearful: I Meet the Unsheltered in the Palisades

By GABRIELLA BOCK | Reporter

It was a bitter cold morning in the Palisades. It was nearly dawn, and I had forgotten my gloves somewhere back in the warm confines of my one-bedroom apartment.

At 5 a.m. on Thursday, Jan. 26, I was out with a group of Palisadians participating in this year’s Greater Los Angeles Homeless Count—a three-day task during which the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority dispatched community volunteers to obtain accurate statistics of the area’s homeless population.

Its not just an academic exercise; Public spending is shaped by the results. Money, and help for those in need.

Perhaps in my own naivety, I hadn’t considered how cold it would be that night—the previous day seemed mild and my Midwestern pride of withstanding blizzarding snow treks to school sheltered me into believing my body was invulnerable. I was wrong.

I was teamed up with four Palisadians—Aly Bernstein, Marcie Mills, Leslie Shapiro and our venerable team leader, Patrick Hart—all of whom had left warm beds in order to assist their community.

Just north of Sunset Boulevard, we were assigned to the sandy residential area along Pacific Coast Highway.

I did not expect to see much activity. Maybe a coyote?

With temperatures close to freezing, I assumed that those who without a home would surely have sought shelter in a more confined space.

Again, I was wrong.

Pacific Palisades Task Force on Homelessness committee member Hart, who has been working closely with local law enforcement agents to map out the area’s homeless encampments, knew the area like the back of his hand.

“Not all homeless people are drifters,” Hart told me. “You’ll see the same people who return to the same spot year after year. Just like we value our homestead stability, those without homes still like to have a familiar space of their own.”

Last year, the city of Los Angeles estimated there were around 47,000 residents who are unsheltered, up from 26,000 the year before—a number that surpasses many American cities.

Despite many transients vanishing off the streets to take shelter from recent storms, that number is expected to rise with the results of this year’s count.

And while the number of veterans is down, thanks to a focused drive by LA Mayor Eric Garcetti and the VA, the number of women on the streets appears up. They rank among the most vulnerable, sometimes having to subject themselves to men for physical protection.

The challenges facing LA’s transient population are often interlaced with the weaknesses of a well-heeled economy. The richer we become, the sadder become those who have fallen through the safety net.

With a shortage of affordable housing and skyrocketing deposit fees (even regulated under Civil Section 1950.5, such fees can reach $5,000 before anyone sees the keys), the minimum wage worker’s ability to secure stable housing in this market is increasingly tough.

The task force was only created in October 2014 but it’s already a shining beacon across the city.

“One of the great things that PPTFH does with its resources is provide security deposits and rent for those who are willing to work with us,” Hart explained. “There are definitely those people—maybe because they are suffering with drug addiction or alcoholism, or perhaps because they had been burdened by some kind of loss—who want to have a stable life, but are unable to meet the high prices of this city’s housing requirements. Homelessness can be a very vicious cycle.”

As the dark started to lift, we came across a man sleeping on a staircase across from Will Rogers State Beach.

Surrounded by twisted bikes, mounds of garbage and, mysteriously, women’s clothing strewn about, the man—who said his name was Randy— awoke to us peeking around his “home.” Standing there on public property, I suddenly felt like an intruder.

“What are you doing here?” Randy questioned with alarm. “Don’t even think about taking any of my stuff.”

Apparently, I wasn’t the first person to visit Randy with unknown intent. Like many others in the Palisades, Randy had been recently subject to a scary home invasion.

“I’ve been sleeping up here for a long time now, everybody knows that,” Randy said. “This older man keeps coming up here while I’m sleeping. He keeps stealing my belongings and I am tired of it. I have to constantly keep one eye open.”

We took his picture and then he took one of us with his iPhone. It was deemed to be only fair—as we were guests in his home, after all.

Others we encountered slept directly on the beach—I was shocked.

The ocean’s spray felt caustic against my raw skin. As I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck, I felt the sun begin to peek up over the distant horizon. The daybreak illuminated the silhouettes of the few brave enough to find refuge in the open air. For a moment, I held my breath. “Surely,” I thought, “the cold night had taken them with it.”

For once, that morning, I was happy to be wrong.

Participating in the 2017 Greater Los Angeles Homeless Count taught me a lot about our little community. I learned that a bus route runs from the heart of central LA and ends directly outside of Will Rogers State Beach. People arrested here are taken downtown, held for a few hours or days and hop back on Bus #2 for a leisurely ride back to friends and belongings.

I learned that after a night of sleeping on the beach, the homeless will still wake up early to get ready for the day. Many look for day work, others to beg.

Others will rummage through trash for out-of-date painkillers or sanitary products. They are often in pain, especially toothache and old untreated wounds.

And that, no matter your economic status, morning breath will always be an undesirable trait. There is a fault line known to the field workers between those unsheltered who still prioritize basic hygiene and for those who have, worn and weary, put it aside.

And lastly—as witnessed when Marcie Mills took off her gloves and, unprompted, placed them over my red, biting hands—the kind-hearted core of Pacific Palisades is a strong force of light in an otherwise dim situation.

I am eager to see what else those involved with the task force will do in the coming year. I think it could get better.