This weekend, while wandering the streets of Westwood, I
stumbled upon a homeless man in the alleyway behind the
In-N-Out.
He was sitting on a ledge, contentedly sipping a Mickey’s
tall can of malt liquor through his missing two front teeth,
flanked by a crumpled bag of leftover fast food and a newspaper. I
have always had an interest in people who exist on the fringes of
society and I was curious to find out what this man’s story
was, so I decided to sit down and have a chat with him.
Like most parts of Los Angeles, Westwood has a thriving
population of people experiencing homelessness. Some simply hang
out on street corners and in alleyways, trying to stay below the
radar, while others beg for spare change in front of liquor stores
and restaurants.
I’ll be the first to admit that being accosted by a string
of panhandlers can certainly be a frustrating experience. As a
compassionate human being, I feel compelled to help out my fellow
man in need, but you never know who needs your money for a meal and
who needs it for that next opiate fix. The other day I walked my
usual block-and-a-half route to the local 7-Eleven and was hit up
for change by a record-breaking five homeless people, and I
couldn’t help but feel used.
On Oct. 5, The Los Angeles Times reported that the streets of
skid row in downtown Los Angeles have “become a depository
for drug addicts, parolees and homeless people.” The article
goes on to report that police officers from all over Los Angeles
county have been effectively extracting the homeless from
surrounding areas and bringing them to skid row.
According to the article, the homeless dropoffs come from as far
as Carson, Venice and even West L.A. The idea is to get the
homeless to a place where there are facilities that can provide
them with help, but it seems that middle class suburbia simply
wants to dump its problems on skid row.
This process of separating ourselves from our problems
represents our society’s attitude toward the homeless. Most
people will simply pass by a homeless person on the street with a
dismissive flip of a quarter or a sneered “get a job,
bum,” and they never even think to talk to the person and
understand why they are living the way they are. Oftentimes, there
is more to a person than his socioeconomic standing, and I urge
people to take a minute to get to know a person before being
judgmental or dismissive.
Back in that Westwood alleyway, I didn’t meet a bum or a
vagrant or any other demeaning label. I met Mark Sterrett, a
45-year-old man from Hermosa Beach. We sat and chatted for nearly
two hours. Throughout our conversation, I began to realize that he
was definitely not your stereotypical dirty, change-begging bum. In
fact, he told me he never panhandles and he works odd jobs all over
Westwood.
Smoking cigarettes with Mark in that alleyway that he referred
to as his “lounge,” I learned that he has worked in
hotels and bars around Los Angeles and that he actually holds a
bachelor’s degree from DeVry University. “I just
can’t be nailed down to a 9-to-5. I like navigating,”
he said, referring to why he lives on the streets. Living life the
way he does is “always an adventure,” he told me. Most
people work a 9-to-5 and get stressed out and all they have to show
for it is “a couch, hopefully a girlfriend or a wife, and
click,” he mimed a remote control, “a television, and
that’s pretty much it.”
Many people simply don’t want to spend the time it takes
to break down barriers and really understand another person. Mark
notes that those who refuse to interact with people in this open
and personal way are really missing out on a big part of life.
With this in mind, my ponderous new friend notes, “In my
situation, you meet a person at his most basic level ““ no
complications at all. You are you; I am me. You meet at ground
level. No corporate heading, no company name. You really get a feel
for how humans actually act and react.” While he notes that
this can be difficult, he says that it can be very rewarding to be
able to connect with people on that level and that throughout his
life, he has learned to “study the human animal.”
Mark certainly has become a master at dealing with people. He
works his natural charm and uses everything he has learned about
people to easily win me over, and from what I can tell, most people
feel the same way about him. “They love me like a roast beef
sandwich,” he tells me, referring to the many people he has
met along the road.
People like Mark often become local celebrities in college
towns, and it would be a shame to lose them because of some
sweeping relocation to the slums of skid row.
I understand why residents and restaurant owners wouldn’t
want to have groups of homeless people hanging out on their blocks,
but I don’t like the idea of cleansing the streets of anyone
who doesn’t fit the standard suburban mold.
Mark feels that at times, people may disregard him and put him
in the same category as criminals and violent drug addicts because
of his status as a homeless person.
As a final word of advice, he said more people should
“listen for a moment then you will be able to lift some
experience from an individual because they may not be stupid or
dumb.”
Have you ever hung out with homeless people or been homeless
yourself? Tell Deitchman at jdeitchman@media.ucla.edu.