L.A. official understands homelessness as policymaker, concerned citizen

It happened on many occasions. Mr. Santana would come out of his apartment in downtown Los Angeles and see the woman in her usual spot, not far from Pershing Square.

“She sleeps sitting up on a bus bench,” he says. “She wears an overcoat and has a suitcase, and if you don’t look carefully, you wouldn’t know she was homeless.”

That may have been her goal: To avoid getting rousted by being not just anonymous, but practically invisible.

He guesses the woman was in her late 60s or early 70s. She wasn’t interested in conversation, and it became clear to Santana that she had some form of mental illness. She took a liking to his dog, though, and that would lead to the slightest bit of chit-chat.

“One night it was really cold and I thought about her, so I went down to give her a blanket,” Santana said. “She refused to take it. She said she didn’t want to have to carry it around, and I said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pick it up in the morning.’ But she still wouldn’t take it.”

Mr. Santana’s first name is Miguel, and he’s the administrative officer for the city of Los Angeles. For many years, beginning with his volunteer work at missions while going to Whittier College, he’s looked at homelessness as both a policy maker and a concerned citizen. In the case of the woman on the bench, he made some inquiries on her behalf.

“I was able to find her an apartment through the Skid Row Housing Trust, and when I went to see her I said, ‘I think I can help you get housing.’”

The woman asked Santana why he was doing this.

“I said, ‘Because I want to help you,’ and I said ‘Here’s the address.’ She looked at it and said, ‘I’m not going there. It’s in skid row.’”

Even among homeless people, there are desirable and undesirable neighborhoods. It may have been that going to skid row might have meant peering into a mirror, or having to negotiate around peddlers or drug users. Given the stigma against mental illness, sitting on a bench in an overcoat, closer to a more “normal” neighborhood, might have been her way of feeling more normal.

Whatever the psychology, the woman told Santana she would live anywhere but skid row. But about a year ago, before he could help make that happen, she disappeared.

The experience was a reminder for Santana of the complexities of addressing homelessness. Every person out there has different needs and presents different challenges, especially those dealing with mental illness.

Last spring, Santana took a hard look and discovered that the city had been spending $100 million a year on homelessness with little coordination and limited return on the investment.

His report came as the number of encampments multiplied in a region beset by a minimum wage economy and an increasingly unaffordable housing market.

Understandably, merchants and residents have felt every combination of compassion, fear and anger over the unchecked expansion of the outdoor colonies.

These days, with the City Council and Mayor Eric Garcetti under pressure to do more about the all-too-visible human catastrophe in our midst, Santana is trying to answer their call to find $100 million somewhere in the budget for a more coherent strategy.

But even if he can produce the money, the commitment pales in comparison with the one in New York City, where the mayor has just announced an ambitious $3-billion housing and service plan.

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” Santana said of L.A.’s situation, telling me the city would need roughly 10 times the $100 million to make a significant dent.

One of his ideas is to propose a document transfer fee on real estate transactions. That would generate up to $120 million a year in the city, and far more if the county bought in. Each time a house in this hot market would be sold, there would be a benefit to those without homes.

As it is, Santana said, the system isn’t set up to do “whatever it takes” for those with the greatest needs. Some people are so sick and entrenched, like the woman on the bench, that there’s a need for outreach workers who will keep going back to them, slowly building the trust necessary to lead them to help.

“Our government is not designed for people who have fallen through the cracks,” Santana said.

But he’s not one to get discouraged. He said city and county officials are working more closely now than they have in years, trying to pool their resources.

Back when Santana worked for L.A. County, he helped put together Project 50, in which the sickest people on skid row were given apartments, with all the support services they needed. The vast majority are still housed and far healthier than they were, and he thinks that’s a better deal for taxpayers.

“We’re living in a society where it’s OK to see people die in front of you, but from a cost perspective, it doesn’t make sense,” he said. With all the money shoveled into police and other public resources, “We’re paying more to have people living outside than if we subsidized their housing.”

Santana noted one barrier to more widespread service: NIMBYism. “It needs to be a one-person-at-a-time program at a massive scale, and it’s more than just government that has that role. It’s all of us.”

This is a week when many people feel a tug to do their part. Serving Thanksgiving dinner at a local church or mission is a nice gesture, but the social service nonprofits that do much of the work Santana is talking about need our time and goods and checks year-round.

On his walk to work Monday morning, Santana passed about a dozen homeless people, some of them camped on the lawn at City Hall.

As for the woman in the overcoat, Santana has spotted her back in his neighborhood of late. With cold weather coming again soon, maybe she’ll take a blanket this time. Maybe she’ll accept something more.

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@LATstevelopez