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Your Tax Dollars at Work (for Those Who Don’t)
On Thursday, the Los Angeles Times told of a report from the City Administrative Officer titled “Homelessness and the City of Los Angeles.” Among the revelations in the report is that 15 different city agencies and departments spend more than $100 million each year on providing services to the homeless. “In July 2014,” the report says, “the Mayor pledged to end veteran homelessness by December 2015 and chronic homelessness in Los Angeles by December 2016.” As with any report from any government bureaucracy, this one says these goals will be achieved through the spending of even more money to be extracted from the taxpayer.
The report also contained recommendations, including this: “Treatment of the homeless with dignity, and clarity on their rights.”
Dignity and rights, they say. Well, sure, who isn’t for dignity and rights? But reading the report put me in mind of interactions I’ve had with some of the city’s homeless people, about whom “dignified” is not among the first thousand adjectives one would use to describe them. Here is a story about one of them:
Los Angeles is a popular destination for the homeless, not least for the great stacks of money spent on them, but also for the city’s pleasant climate. If you’re going to sleep outdoors, it might as well be in L.A. But that climate can at times turn inhospitable to those on the streets, and it is in those times that cops and firefighters see an upsurge in calls from homeless people claiming to have this or that malady, one that requires a trip to a hospital, a clean bed, and a meal. We call these people “frequent flyers.”
When I answered the radio call one day, the temperature in L.A. was nudging 100 degrees. The woman who had called 911 claimed to be suicidal, necessitating the response of multiple police units. “I’m going to kill myself,” she said. “You have to take me to the hospital.”
I recognized at once that this was a case of a frequent flyer, and by inquiring at the nearby homeless shelter, I learned that the woman had just that day been expelled from it for unruly behavior. She was too much of a bum, I was told, even for the other bums.
I explained to the woman that I was sorry she was feeling so blue, but she would not be getting the ride to the hospital she had hoped for.
“But you have to take me,” she said, “or I’ll kill myself. That will be on you.” That would be unfortunate, I told her, but I was sure I would get over it quickly enough. She went on at some length and with great vigor to condemn my callousness, and she threatened to haunt me from the grave. Call me heartless, but my decision was final.
To her credit, she was resourceful. She had a Plan B, which was to march right over to the same pay phone she had used earlier and call 911 again, this time asking for the Fire Department. She was connected to an LAFD dispatcher, to whom she reported symptoms of an affliction of some kind, and in due course there appeared noisily at the scene an ambulance and a fire engine, thus bringing the number of city employees in the little drama to about 10.
To these firefighters she again reported her “symptoms.” (She had now abandoned all suicide talk – that would have made her a police problem, and she knew she was getting nowhere with us.) The Fire Department protocols, based on her claimed symptoms, demanded that she be taken to a hospital, so with great resignation the firefighters loaded her onto a gurney and collected her “belongings” – a whole shopping cart full of trash, from what I could make of it – into plastic bags to be carted along with her.
And she was then delivered to some hospital in or around downtown L.A., there to waste the time of doctors, nurses, and other staff while she enjoyed the air conditioning, the clean sheets, and a free meal, and perhaps passed the time chatting it up with some other homeless person who had put a different group of cops and firefighters through a similar charade. All of it was paid for by the taxpayers of Los Angeles, and I’ll bet she does it every time she finds the weather not to her liking.
Based on this report from the Administrative Officer and the mayor’s pledge to “end homelessness,” the city will no doubt commit even more money to the problem. (Perhaps they can fund it by running a unicorn farm.) And in two, five, or ten years there will be another report expressing wonderment and frustration as to why, after spending all that money, there are still so many homeless people in Los Angeles.
I’m grateful I don’t live there anymore.
“And in two, five, or ten years there will be another report expressing wonderment and frustration as to why, after spending all that money, there are still so many homeless people in Los Angeles.”
Unless they all move to San Francisco.
We’re going through a similar problem here in my little town of Monrovia, CA. At taxpayer expense, a lovely park and new library were built about 5 or 6 years ago. Millions spent, and I’ll be paying for it on my tax bill for another 20 years or so.
It has attracted quite a few homeless. So much so the young mommies in town no longer go to the park because the homeless that are living there are … how to say this nicely … jerks.
The issue is brought up often at city council meetings, committees are formed, money is spent, and the population grows.
Not saying I have the answer, but at some point I wish everyone would wake up and realize that spending money on a problem – especially when it’s someone else’s money – solves nothing. We’d still have the problem, but we’d be less broke.
I ran a day labor company in Florida for a few years. Daily work. Daily pay. (AKA Rent-a-Wino) I often went to nearby parks to gather up guys to work when the initial supply (the guys that actually came into the office) ran out.
It was very difficult to get these guys to come and work. During the colder season many of them would commit some kind of mis-demeanor to get sentenced to 30 or 60 days in county jail. They called it getting “3 hots and a cot.”
My experience with these guys has given me a very jaded view of the homeless. They used to be called bums for a reason.
I am shocked. No, really. I am.
I was under the impression that there were only homeless when there was a Republican President, and that their population doubled in states with Republican Governors, and doubled again in cities with Republican Mayors. So I am shocked at this LA Times report.
Surely, Jack’s story dates from the Bush/Schwarzenegger timeframe.
For instance, there are no homeless here in NYC. That nice gentleman sleeping on the subway platform is an urban camper. This is a very popular activity, especially since the election of Mayor DiBlasio.
I think your broader point about spending money on the homeless is right on. It doesn’t seem to fix the problem.
I do think there is something to be said, however, for treating the homeless with dignity. I think most of us feel uncomfortable when we see a homeless person panhandling, and I don’t fault anyone for feeling that way. I passed a woman today who was waiting at the street corner, and when the light was red, she was going up to stopped cars and begging them for who knows what. I was glad the light was green when I went through the intersection. Having said that, let me use relate a few of my interactions with homeless people, in the comments below.
I was downtown Seattle. The assignment was to find a homeless person, and buy them breakfast. I approached a middle aged black man pushing a shopping cart.
“I said hey, are you hungry? I’ll buy you breakfast at McDonalds!” His response “I really appreciate the offer, but I don’t feel that I deserve having someone buy me breakfast. I did get something to eat earlier, but find someone who needs it more than me.” I chatted with him a bit more and asked him his story. He said he was homeless because he was a drug addict. He didn’t blame anyone, just himself. He said he’d gotten into drugs young, and never been able to kick the addiction. His family tried to get him help but he refused. So now he strolled around the street finding aluminum cans, which he could trade for drug money.
Now, he probably did other things for drug money, which he didn’t mention. He probably was a liar and he probably did lots of other things that I wouldn’t approve of. But on that day, I treated him with dignity, and he did the same.
Several days in a row I saw a young woman on the street, with a small boy maybe 5 years old. She had a sign asking for money of course. Every time I saw her I felt bad for her. I don’t always feel bad for homeless people. But there was something about her and her kid. Maybe I’m a sucker. I think God put it on me to do something. So about the third day I stopped nearby and approached her. I said that I’d seen her a few days in a row, and though I wasn’t going to give her money, I wondered if I brought her some canned goods and other things, if she’d have a way to get it back wherever she lived. She said that she lived out of her car, and it was close by, and she’d be thankful for anything I could give. So I mentioned it to some folks at work, and they all pitched in, and I brought her a box of food and clothes for a kid. She smiled and thanked me.
She probably is a liar too, and probably does lots of things she shouldn’t do. But on that day, I treated her with dignity, and she did the same.
I was walking downtown Atlanta with a colleague, on our way from our hotel to a Microsoft convention. It was pretty early, and not a lot of people about. An old black man approached me asking if I could spare some money. I stopped and told him that I would not give him any money, and but if I had the time I sure would buy him a meal. But, I explained, I didn’t have the time that morning, because I had someplace to be. I told him I was sorry about that, and asked him his name (which I’ve since forgotten). He thanked me for being nice to him, and said he hoped I had a good day. I told him the same. After a few blocks, my colleague told me he was amazed. I asked him why. He said that he just ignores homeless people. I explained that I used to as well. But I learned that they are people too.
This old guy, he probably was a drug addict. I have no idea. But on that day, I treated him with dignity, and he did the same.
I remember a mildly autistic man I met in Seattle. This was on the same day I offered the drug addict recylcer breakfast. This other young man was interested in breakfast (he was a bit chubbier than the first guy) We went to a nearby McDonalds and I bought him a McMuffin and a cup of coffee. I asked him to tell me his story. He said that he couldn’t hold a job, and so he just found it easier to live on the streets. There were plenty of places in Seattle to sleep at night, and get a hot meal. He explained in great detail how he could get a bus pass and ride the bus anywhere he wanted “from Everett to Olympia!” He would go outside of the city and buy cigarettes by the carton, then he would come into the city and sell them by the pack. Now, this’ll get you killed in some cities (!) but in Seattle, it’s just being industrious. I don’t remember much else about the man, but he was thankful for the breakfast and someone to talk to.
Now, maybe this guy could hold down a job, but he was too lazy. I don’t know. But on that day, I treated him with dignity, and he did the same.
I remember handing out blankets to homeless people one night. I met a man, probably in his 50s, who was happy to take a blanket. I asked him how he came to be on the streets. He said he was in the Air Force, had been to Vietnam, and afterwards had taken to drink. He’d been married but his wife wouldn’t have him because of his drinking. She kicked him out. He had trouble holding a job because of his drinking as well, and wouldn’t accept any help. He’d come out to Seattle because he’d heard it was easier on homeless people.
Now, he might have been lying about being in the Air Force and Vietnam. Maybe he was just a drunk, and Vietnam was his excuse. I don’t know. But on that day, I treated him with dignity, and he did the same.
I don’t tell those stories so you’ll think “Oh hey, look at Spin! He’s so wonderful and great!” I don’t tell them because I think that somehow the liberals are right and we should poor money into helping these folks.
I tell the stories because in my experience, limited as it may be, the homeless are people and they deserve to be treated as people. You don’t have to give them money, or anything really. Just acknowledge them as people. That probably isn’t going to end their poverty. But it is the right thing to do.
Ok, I’m off my high horse now.
Under the heading of ‘There Has To Be A Better Way”. It seems that there are already dozens and dozens of programs designed to provide assistance … But they all require the beneficiaries have some sort of permanent address. Wouldn’t it be simpler to get these folks a PO Box ( or the equivalent) and then let the existing public assistance apparatus take over?
The medical establishment just loves frequent fliers. Boy do I have some stories.
Tell each illegal they can only stay if they get a homeless person to replace them in Mexico. The homeless shouldn’t care where they’re homeless. The weather is better and the frequent flyers will enjoy more free healthcare.
You left out a significant fact Mr. Dumphy. There have been serious attempts to crack down on this outrage but the police and firefighters unions have fought any change in procedures tooth and nail. Turns out the police or EMT escorts for these tragic victims like the three or four hours of soft duty hanging out in the hospital halls while on the clock.
Can’t the city of LA provide them with $200, a shower, a clean set of clothes, a sleeping bag and a one way bus ticket to SF ? That would be way cheaper in the long run.
Please stay on that horse. :) I am in agreement with you.
I agree with both of you. There’s no excuse for bad manners. Ever.
But what’s frustrating is watching the way the drama is being played out in my little town. There are many that are vocally sympathetic to the homeless in the park. It’s not their fault, times are tough, addiction is a disease. But their sympathy and unwillingness to make them move along, or do anything beyond forming a committee, is punishing the young families that paid … and are paying still … for the park.
For the record, here’s my pie-eyed and simple-minded solution to the problem of homelessness:
Don’t try to end it. There will always be those who for one reason or another don’t participate. Just make sure there are plenty of opportunities for folks. That means getting the hell out of the way of the economy. Implement the conservative economic agenda, and be surprised at how the problem of poverty diminishes. It won’t go away of course.
Capitalism has lifted far more people out of poverty than the command economy.
My experience is of course limited to Los Angeles, but I’ve never met a single police officer or firefighter who would oppose cracking down on such abuses of the system. They don’t like having their time wasted any more than anyone else does. And I’ve never heard of either the police or fire union opposing any such crackdown. If they did, their members would revolt.
I read all your stories and I really liked them. :) I’m the same way, actually. If someone on the street approaches me and I have any money on me, I always give. Yea, they are probably lying but I honestly don’t care. Not up to me to judge why you’re standing on the street asking strangers for money and what you’re going to do with it after I give it to you. I just feel blessed to have it to give.
And on a more realistic note, if I just give money freely and it saves someone from doing something FAR less degrading than just asking, I’m okay with that.
Spin,
In posting the above I didn’t mean to suggest that the homeless should be treated disrespectfully. I am a Christian, and as such I believe every person, regardless of his station in life, is created in God’s image. A rule that has served me well in my career has been to treat people with the level of respect they deserve, and through observing that rule I have had more than 30 years of fairly smooth sailing while dealing with some very rough customers.
I’ve enjoyed very cordial relationships with some homeless men over the years. There was one I visited with nearly every working day at his campsite next to the Harbor Freeway in South Central L.A. I also bought him a pair of gloves and food for his dog, as well as a proper leash as he had been keeping the dog tied up with a crude rope and chain. When I transferred to a new assignment I had a hard time saying good bye to him. There was another homeless man who lived nearby who witnessed a murder and provided crucial testimony during the killer’s trial. To the best of my knowledge, neither of these men ever caused trouble for people in the neighborhood or faked an ailment so as to get an ambulance ride and a day or two in the hospital.
But in relating the tale in the post, I meant to show that some homeless people, like the woman I described, are parasites. She was unwilling to abide by the rules of the place that provided her with food and place to sleep, yet such was her sense of entitlement that she concocted an ailment and wasted the time of ten cops and firefighters whose services might have been required by someone with a legitimate need. Even so, I was not rude or demeaning to her, I merely failed to acquiesce to her demand to be taken to a hospital. Rather than admit to her dishonesty, she abandoned the suicide story she told the cops and switched to one that would fly with the firefighters. That woman, and people like her, do not deserve the same level of respect one would accord a homeless person who behaved more honorably.
No it’s something worse. You’re judging people that are trying to strike a balance on how to treat people less fortunate then them. And you’re trying to shame them.
Doesn’t work with me.
My attitude is people who act like jerks deserve to be treated like jerks, whether they’re rich, poor, or something in between. A small percentage of the rich and powerful will almost always get away with being jerks. Life’s not fair.
I’ve been fortunate in that I’ve been able to live a comfortable life, and I have a, “There, but for the grace of God, go I” attitude when I see someone less fortunate than I. But if I were in that position, I’d have a lot of humility in asking for help. As for those that don’t; as someone who is fortunate, I may be morally obligated to help in a general sense, but that doesn’t mean every individual is entitled to it.
They deserve to be called out.
I have a middle-aged family member who suffers from bipolar disorder and severe paranoid schizoprenia. Like many people with those afflictions, he regularly goes off his meds.
He’s homeless at the moment. Well, he would be, except that he’s in jail unable to pay his bail for a rather serious, but (so far) nonviolent, offence. When they ‘sentence’ him to ‘time served’ at his hearing next month (for the third, or eighth, or twelfth time), and let him go, he’ll be on the street.
He’s been thrown out of countless places that he’s rented over the last two decades. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve cleaned up after him, and the number of dumpsters I’ve filled with his garbage, as well as the number of bill-collectors, landlords, car dealers, shopkeepers, and government and law-enforcement officials I’ve talked to when we’ve been dunned for his transgressions. His lifestyle, when he’s off his meds, is revolting, dangerous, bizarre, and frightening.
He lived with Mr She and me for years while he was taking his meds, but that will not happen again.
Over the past seven years, (four of which he lived with us, and therefore had virtually no expenses to speak of), he’s blown his way, mostly in very regrettable forms, through almost half-a-million dollars in inheritance money that an elderly relative was unwise enough to leave him outright.
We have moved heaven and earth to try to get him help, and to get him into a situation where his behavior, and his meds-taking, can be monitored and controlled.
Unfortunately, his ‘lifestyle choices’ and his ‘right to privacy’ trumps anything that we, or anyone else, can do. And so he goes on his merry way, strewing havoc, destruction, frustration, and fear wherever he goes.
I do believe that sorting out this country’s attitude towards, and treatment of, the mentally ill would solve a huge part of the ‘homeless’ problem rather quickly.
My experience of the homeless goes back some 25 years. The abolition of state hospitals was one mistake. They weren’t decorative or lavish: they were humane, realistic, and practical. We knew we weren’t treating yuppies and we were not long on political correctness. But we were the next thing many of these folks had to family, and they knew it. They couldn’t frighten us, and if they attempted guilt we’d laugh. If they attempted to assault each other, we put them in the Quiet Room for a few hours and watched them. They were physically examined on arrival and we had an abundance of medical help so that we didn’t have to freak out if someone said “chest pain.” We kept paperwork to a minimum. We did not operate a complaint department and saw no need of one. After all, for some people, the whole world is a complaint department.
Then came our moral betters, who protested and harangued about “snake pits” and postured for the camera. So now the homeless live on the streets and when they pull the old racket, they’re picked up and brought to real hospitals, where they’re worked up as if for surgery.
And: each medical professional whose time is wasted by this moves a few minutes closer to saying “the hell with it” and leaving the field. Burnout is partly caused by attempting to pretend you’re dealing with saints when you eyes and ears tell you you’re talking to a bum. If you start with the idea he’s a bum, then you can move on to his humanity. I never resented patients until I was lectured about their dignity and their rights. That’s what started me thinking about mine. And that’s what started me eyeing the door.
Thanks for this essay Jack. As a former police officer I have dealt with transients. Some encounters were benign and some were not. I knew some by their first names and sometimes I would spring for a cup of coffee or buy them a sandwich. Some encounters were not so benign. I have seen what Annefy has seen in the main library in downtown Portland. Transients in the children’s section of the library on the computers trying to access porn. Transients that act out and have to be removed from the library. I have had librarians look at me as a savior and some librarians look at you as a jackbooted thug when you remove a transient that has tried to accost a patron in a library restroom or transients that are angry because someone is sitting at “their” computer.
I have wasted my time with transients in the ER. I have been called to remove transients from the ER that have flown into a rage because they are not going to get the opiates they wanted from an ER doc. I have taken them to warming shelters and I have taken them to jail.
As far as the opportunity of stealing time from the taxpayer because dealing with a transient is goof-off time the last transient I spent some quality time with had TB. That meant the Portland Police Bureau had to schedule an appointment for me to get a TB test.
I agree that the abolition of state hospitals (thanks SSI, the federal courts, and along the way, President Reagan), and the turfing out of the mentally ill into ‘community-based services’ has been an abysmal failure. I daresay there were abuses of the old system, as there are abuses of the new, but it’s hard to see how the new is better.
My pet peeve in the ‘dignity and rights’ department is that the families of the seriously, chronically, lifelong, mentally ill should be treated as if they have some knowledge and expertise in the struggles of their family members, and rather than being shunted aside and treated as though they are the problem, they should be embraced and made part of the solution.
What happens instead, though, is that every time (we’re talking at least half-a-dozen times over the last 25 years) my family member is declared mentally incompetent, an imminent danger to himself or others, and incapable of framing a rational thought, and he is committed against his will to a mental institution, the first question he’s asked is: “Can we talk to your family members about your stay here.”
When he says “NO,” that goes in the record (because he’s in charge of his care), and his family might as well not exist from that point forward. When they ask him if he’s ever been committed for mental illness before, and he says “NO,” they take him at his word, and treat him accordingly.
Talk about the inmates running the asylum . . .
I do believe that sorting out this country’s attitude towards, and treatment of, the mentally ill would solve a huge part of the ‘homeless’ problem rather quickly.
my family member is declared mentally incompetent, an imminent danger to himself or others, and incapable of framing a rational thought, and he is committed against his will to a mental institution, the first question he’s asked is: “Can we talk to your family members about your stay here.”
When he says “NO,” that goes in the record (because he’s in charge of his care), and his family might as well not exist from that point forward. When they ask him if he’s ever been committed for mental illness before, and he says “NO,” they take him at his word, and treat him accordingly.
She: Yes! I’ve got a similar situation (not, thank God, as bad so far, but bad enough) and we’ve had the same problem. The family member is hallucinating, thinks she’s Jesus, thinks she’s pregnant with conjoined twins…doesn’t want to talk to her family…and even though she is clearly, obviously nucking futs, the one sentence they actually listen to is that last one. I am of the firm opinion that no one should stay in a hospital without someone who loves them in close attendance, and the advocacy and care-monitoring function is even more important when the patient is delusional or psychotic.
Finally, she signed a form that said we could see her medical information. Later, once the meds had begun to work, she told us she thought she was signing the form so they could take away her organs and give them to sick children…
Why, oh why can’t we have mental institutions again? We confine the elderly and physically handicapped in nursing homes, after all—a friend, severely disabled from M.S., says she is incarcerated in her nursing home. “What else do you call it when you’re not allowed to leave?” But the bipolar or schizophrenic patient is “free” to stagger around Los Angeles eating out of garbage cans and listening to scary voices. Great.
The largest single provider of mental health care in the country is the prison system. Why is there not a mental-health version of a nursing home where your family member (and mine, if it comes to that) can get the long term care s/he needs?
10 million dollars? Wouldn’t that build a nice looney bin (my mentally-ill loved one’s term) for the citizens of LA?
Anyway, She, I’m really sorry about your family member. You’ve been given a very hard assignment in love—bless you!
I withdrawal my comment about police or EMTs. I am sure most would rather be doing other duties, but I stand by my comments about public employee unions focusing on staffing and work rule “givebacks” and thereby stymieing any innovation in this area. Reason magazine had an article sometime ago on this issue, I believe, it could have been a different publication, and pointed out the outrageous number of staff and vehicles that have to be sent to each incident due to union negotiated protocol.
Thank you Kate. I need the blessing, and I feel for you, too.
Perhaps the pendulum is starting to swing a bit in our favor. Tim Murphy (who is the US Congressman for my district) is on the case for the families of the mentally ill, but politics being what it is, progress is slow.
Additional support for the return of ‘long term care facilities’ (I thought I’d use a more acceptable term than ‘institutions’ or ‘asylums’) for the mentally ill comes from an unlikely source (generally, I hear this guy’s name and I want to puke): Ezekiel Emanuel.
Still, give the devil his due, I think he’s right about this.
Again, I am talking about (and I think you are too), people who are seriously, chronically mentally ill who cannot manage their meds or their lives. I’m not talking about someone who’s having a bout of depression following a family tragedy or difficult situation, or someone who takes meds to control a mood disorder. Those can also be serious conditions, but I am talking about men and women who are so disordered that they wreak havoc and destruction on the things and people around them wherever and whenever they go, on and on for decades, along the way earning the epithets that are used to describe such folks, some of which are used in the comments on this thread.
I’m fond of saying: “I used to see a man or woman sitting in a ditch next to the road talking to himself and gesticulating, and I would think ‘Poor soul. How could his family let that happen to him (or her)?’ Now I see him sitting in a ditch next to the road talking to himself and gesticulating, and I think ‘Poor soul. He probably has a family somewhere that’s in Hell because there is absolutely nothing any of them can do to help him (or her).’”
This article about sums up what it’s like if you’re a family member of a seriously mentally ill person trying to get him or her some help.
The ‘system’ that’s in place to treat the mentally ill is awful.
The treatment of the loving families (and there are many) of the mentally ill is just as bad, if not worse.