Breaking the Cycle of Homelessness

By Terelle Jerricks, Managing Editor

Sixty-two-year-old Gerald Robinson was sweeping up litter and dirt around his possessions at about 7:30 a.m. April 27.  All of his possessions were folded and packaged neatly inside five shopping carts—not including the one he uses to collect recyclable bottles and cans.

“I don’t want to depend on handouts,” he said 24 hours before he was to leave or be evicted from the block between Beacon and Ante Perkov Way on 8th Street—the northern side of the Beacon Street Post Office.

For Robinson and his encampment neighbors, James, Tim, Neecee and her two brothers and son, the countdown had been ticking since April 24, when the city posted notices on trees and utility poles near the encampments that had sprung up around the vicinity in the past three weeks.

Sixty-two-year-old Gerald Robinson was sweeping up litter and dirt around his possessions at about 7:30 a.m. April 27. All of his possessions were folded and packaged neatly inside five shopping carts—not including the one he uses to collect recyclable bottles and cans.

“I don’t want to depend on handouts,” he said 24 hours before he was to leave or be evicted from the block between Beacon and Ante Perkov Way on 8th Street—the northern side of the Beacon Street Post Office.

For Robinson and his encampment neighbors, James, Tim, Neecee and her two brothers and son, the countdown had been ticking since April 24, when the city posted notices on trees and utility poles near the encampments that had sprung up around the vicinity in the past three weeks.

He didn’t seem to know where he was going to move next. He just said he’ll move.

“As long as my mother is still buried in Green Hills Cemetery, I’ll still be in Pedro,” he said.

But he was conscious of his schedule. At noon, he had an appointment he had to keep, perhaps more important than moving his belongings, with his case manager.

The notices gave the homeless until 7:30 a.m. on April 28 to move their belongings. It didn’t matter where they went as long as they weren’t in front of the iconic Ante’s restaurant that morning. Ante’s has been closed for the past three years

Most of the encampment’s residents belong to the Plaza Park encampment that was vacated in December. Random Lengths reported on the complaints generated by their presence. They were evicted then, too. Neecee and her family were among those who were evicted.

The encampment’s residents said they didn’t think it would be a problem this time around and that up until recently, the police didn’t think so either.

At least that was the case before the city was spurred into action when a Facebook post drawing attention to the issue went viral—eliciting hundreds of comments.

Neecee and her family share space on the sidewalk next to Ante’s restaurant along with several shopping carts and several bikes — a couple of them in various stages of repair. On the Friday before the April 28 deadline, Neecee said she had a Section 8 voucher and was set to acquire housing in a day or two. If successful, she and her family would be able to make this the last time she’d have to move her home a few blocks whenever the city comes knocking.

Any belongings left behind would be collected by contractors hired by the city’s Bureau of Street Services and kept in a secure location for pickup for up to three months. After those three months unclaimed belongings are discarded. When asked about what they would do if their belongings were taken, James said they will just find more stuff.

But their belongings aren’t easily replaceable when it comes to relatively clean blankets, clothes, bicycles, important documents and other personal effects.

The never-ending cycle of forced evictions from public spaces echoes the Los Angeles City Administrative Office’s assessment of enforcement-only measures in its April 16 report.

The report estimated that the city spends $100 million annually in addressing homelessness, with little to show for it.

Among the recommendations proposed was better coordination of existing city and nonprofit services on both the city and county levels.

Alex Devin is Harbor Interfaith Services’ outreach and housing navigator and, in this encampment, the most recognizable representative of Los Angeles County’s Coordinated Entry System.

The Coordinated Entry System is a collaboration of public and private partners throughout the county that assess people who are homeless and adds them to a shared database. With this database, the most vulnerable are prioritized for permanent supportive housing and other services. It also helps ensure those in the system are not forgotten.

Devin was hired in September 2014. He’s created more than 300 case files and found permanent housing for 31 of them since he’s been hired.

“We’re chipping away at it,” Devin said.

He noted that from the time a case file is opened to when a client is placed in permanent housing could take four to nine months.

At 8 a.m. on Tuesday, Robinson’s belongings were still there, but he hadn’t been seen by his encampment mates since the day before. His belongings, including a cart filled with what remains of his record and cassette tape collection topped with neatly folded blankets, were taken away.

Neecee was packing the remainder of her belongings into her shopping carts. She said it would be another month before she’ll be able to move into her Section 8 housing.