"The world has changed - fear is prevailing in our society - seeds of doubt in our justice system - overpopulation pounding our cities with decaying values - selfishness spilling over the pot of greed - surfacing to unproportional degrees -
Yet - I have seen through my own experience - the communion of people - the caring - the love - the dedication - tireless volunteers working to serve humanity - where everyone is equal - color has no value - and religion is in God's hands - "
- Ray Castellani
L.A.'s dirty little secret: Central City East, commonly known as Skid Row. Some describe it as a human landfill. Others call it hell on Earth. All agree that it is an enormous problem.
Los Angeles' Skid Row is regarded as having the largest homeless population in the United States. Estimates range from 7,000 to 8,000 people who either "reside" or pass through the area. Prostitution, drug use and rampant crime are this area's hallmarks--but to paint that kind of picture would be unfair.
It would be unfair because it neglects to mention the heroes who battle the hopelessness and misery on a daily basis.
I had the fortune of meeting 73 year-old Ray Castellani, the white-haired angel of Skid Row, this past Saturday. A former actor turned humanitarian, he now runs The Frontline Foundation (based in Tarzana, CA) and has done so for 18 years. Some friends and I were down on the Row at 8 a.m. to help Ray's food service organization distribute some sustenance that morning. The brisk air was heavy with the smell of urine and despite the pervasive gloom on an otherwise beautiful Los Angeles day, we were all excited to help Ray and the people.
His car pulled up and he and his three colleagues came over and greeted us. I reached out to shake Ray's hand but he hugged me and the others, thanking us for coming. He then immediately ordered the waiting masses into two lines. His command over them was apparent--and later as I heard them interacting with him, I realized it wasn't just because he was bringing food. They respected him in a way that no part-time volunteer would ever enjoy.
A rickety table was set up on one side of the car, while some other volunteers and myself stood with garbage bags of wrapped sandwiches, bottled water emblazoned with the Frontline logo, and another huge bag of assorted candies. For the next hour or so, I got to meet the people who literally live through cold, bloody nights and equally savage days, over and over again. Some were so old it was a miracle that they stood to tuck their sandwich in their shirt. One man was my age, only his eyes betrayed his experiences. One looked like a lost college professor, only covered in dirt and speechless. Indeed, there are college graduates and once urban professionals who have ended up here. Poverty and cruel fortune do not discriminate.
It crossed my mind as I handed bottled water to them that some of these people who thanked me with baggy eyes and worn, toothless smiles wouldn't be here to pick up their food next Saturday. Some of them seemed to be dead already, and it struck me that handing out ham sandwiches and Tootsie Rolls seemed like an empty gesture, something meaningless--like trying to resuscitate someone who has drowned. Then I wondered what well of steel resolve Ray has drawn from every week for these last 18 years, and I immediately sured up and began smiling the best I could.
But even Ray's optimism is starting to fade. The forces of capitalism threaten to swallow the Row and spit out these people--all in the name of "progress." It is their solution, but it most certainly is not a viable one for the thousands of dispossessed, mentally disturbed and drug-addled souls who have formed their own community here.
High-priced lofts, restaurants and boutiques are slowly but steadily encroaching on Skid Row. But as business begins to rise, the amount of SRO housing (Single-Room Occupancy) and treatment centers are not. This in turn creates a "leaf-blowing" effect, scattering the already-displaced into surrounding areas. And no one outside of the Row seems equipped to deal with the influx.
To make matters worse, the city has imposed an ordinance banning sleeping on city streets during the day time--with help in part from none other than the American Civil Liberties Union. That's right, the organization that heralds itself as a bastion of civil liberties is now siding with community developers and the LAPD, while arguing that the rights of the homeless are being protected--just during evening hours of course. Should I mention the dumping of homeless patients by area hospitals? At least City Attorney Rocky Delgadillo is stepping up and taking Kaiser Permanente to the woodshed.
Within an atmosphere of negligence, cruelty and greed, it's people like Ray who ultimately make a difference in the lives of this area's less fortunate. I will highlight other organizations and individuals in upcoming posts. I urge you to stop over at The Frontline Foundation and donate to help Ray keep hope alive on Skid Row.
Crossposted at On Feingold and Swiss Cheese.