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2010-02-15 12:16:28
By KEVIN O'LEARY / LOS ANGELES Kevin O'leary / Los Angeles . Sat Feb 13, 11:00
am ET
Tim Barker never thought he'd have to live in his truck. Four months ago, the
plumber was in a one-bedroom apartment in California's San Fernando Valley,
with a pool and a Jacuzzi. Then, on his birthday in October, he and 199 other
plumbers were laid off by their union, Local 761 in Burbank. Now Barker's son
sleeps on the sofa of his cousin's one-bedroom Hollywood apartment, and Barker
sleeps on the roof of the apartment building - or in his 2003 Ford Ranger
pickup. "I'm 47, and I've never lived in my car," says Barker, a husky 220-lb.
single father with sandy hair and a rapid-fire voice. In January, as torrential
rains pelted the streets of Southern California, father and son were sleeping
in the truck in San Pedro, next to the Los Angeles Harbor. "We were able to
spend four nights in the Vagabond Motel, but for two nights we slept in the
car," says Barker. "It was raining, cold, and the cat was jumping on us. We
both got sick."
For people who cannot afford rent, a car is the last rung of dignity and sanity
above the despair of the streets. A home on wheels is a classic American
affair, from the wagon train to the RV. Now, for some formerly upwardly mobile
Americans, the economic storm has turned the backseat or the rear of the van
into the bedroom. "We found six people sleeping in their cars on an overnight
police ride-along in December," says John Edmund, chief of staff to Long Beach
councilman Dee Andrews. "One was a widow living in a four-door sedan. She and
her husband had been Air Force veterans. She did not know about the agencies
that could help her. I had tears in my eyes afterwards." (See TIME's
photo-essay "The American Economy: Down and Out.")
"Cars are the new homeless shelters," says Joel John Roberts, CEO of PATH
(People Assisting the Homeless) Partners, the largest provider of services for
the homeless in Los Angeles County, which had nearly 50,000 people homeless in
2009. Of these, experts estimate that up to 10% live in vehicles - even though
doing so is illegal in most of the county. A similar situation is true for many
other regions across the nation, especially in the Sun Belt. A woman lives in
her BMW in Marina Del Rey, a swank L.A. address on the coast. PATH outreach
workers Jorge Guzman and Tomasz Babiszkiewicz say she was an executive
recruiter until the Great Recession. "She was self-employed for 36 years," says
Guzman. "Now she sits in the car with a blanket and reads. She has not told her
daughter." (See the 50 worst cars of all time.)
Barker, the out-of-work plumber, has checked out shelters, motels and
homeless-assistance programs throughout the Los Angeles area as he scrambles to
find a roof for his son and him to sleep under. "We went down to a shelter in
downtown, but it was bad - heroin, crack, smells. Randy looked at me and said,
'Dad, get me out of here. It's spooky.' Now I am trying to get assistance to
get into an apartment in San Pedro so Randy can get back in school." PATH
outreach workers are talking to Barker about his possible eligibility for
federal assistance with rent and utilities under the new federal
homelessness-prevention program. (See how the new federal
homelessness-prevention program works.)
One problem Barker has discovered with living in a pickup truck is keeping
track of things. "My cousin is our ace in the hole," Barker says as he stands
in a crowded one-bedroom apartment that has seen better days. On his cousin's
cluttered coffee table sits a worn yellow briefcase covered with union
stickers; it's stuffed with unemployment forms, birth certificates, old utility
bills and school application papers for Randy, a skinny 12-year-old who loves
basketball. (Is 1 in 50 American kids homeless?)
People who fall into homelessness say it feels like a spiral. A layoff, a
medical emergency or a domestic quarrel sets off a chain reaction of bad luck.
And the risk of falling into the economic abyss has increased, even in better
times. Writing before the housing bubble burst and Wall Street collapsed, Yale
political scientist Jacob Hacker showed that the big difference between 30
years ago and today is the dramatic growth in income volatility. American
family incomes now rise and fall much more sharply from year to year, and this
is happening at the same time that public and private safety nets have eroded.
See pictures of the recession of 1958.
See pictures of Americans in their homes.
Some of the floating economic refugees, especially those from the middle and
working classes, "do not think of themselves as homeless," says Susan Price,
director of homeless services in Long Beach. "They think, 'I'm not that. I am
just living in my car.' " In fact, living in your car counts as being homeless,
according to the Federal Government. Peggy, 58, who lives in a small RV on a
quiet Hollywood side street, says, "If I had known how hard it is to be
homeless and how hard it is to escape, I would have called all my friends to
ask for help. But I was embarrassed." She was laid off from her telemarketing
job in January 2009. "It was the same day that 76,000 people were laid off. I
did not feel alone. I liked my job. It was within walking distance of my
apartment." Her mother gave her the nearly 20-year-old RV that houses Peggy and
her dog Fluffy. Wearing tennis shoes and a leather jacket, Peggy says she
misses her apartment but enjoys still being in the neighborhood. "I sweep the
sidewalk and pick up the trash," she says. "There is a real sense of community
here." (See more about the homeless.)
"I know I am homeless," says Agnes Cooper, 58, who parks her silver 2006 Chevy
HHR hatchback at a local gym in Phoenix. "If [the managers of the gym] know,
they haven't said, and I have not asked permission. When I first slept in my
car, I was parking at a Burger King, but the young kids made fun of me, and I
am not accustomed to children being disrespectful." Cooper says her passenger
seat folds down flat and she sleeps well. She works out and showers every
morning and says the gym is "the best thing that ever happened to my body." A
series of physical ailments to her back, legs and wrists caused her to stop
working as a registered nurse; that, coupled with the death of her husband,
forced her from her apartment.
Cooper says she faces a choice. She receives $909 a month in Social Security.
After her bills, she has $289 left, plus the $100 she now pays for storage. She
could spend that money to move into subsidized housing, but if she did, then
she would be nearly broke: little money for food, no money to give at Sunday
services, no money to buy her grandchildren gifts and no money to give to
others in need - things she does on a regular basis. Now that her health has
improved and her back is stronger, she hopes she can go back to work, at least
part time. (See how the new federal homelessness-prevention program works.)
Cooper's situation will be stable until she loses her car. Price says, "When
people can no longer can afford to register their car and the police tow it,
then people are on the street. That is the last rung. The towing and impounding
charges are steep, and frequently people lose everything." Rudy Salinas, who
directs the PATH outreach team in Los Angeles, says, "Allowing people to park
on the street is a short-term solution. It is great for tonight, but not for
next year."
"It's no fun living in your car," says Mike, a lighting specialist in the Los
Angeles entertainment industry who has been out of work for a year. One of his
last jobs was the Academy Awards show. "I don't have a job right now, in part
because of my situation. Did you know that 50% of people who are homeless and
living in their cars have jobs?" He keeps his vehicle registration current and
parks his van on side streets on L.A.'s west side and in the San Fernando
Valley. "You want to park where it is safe and inconspicuous. Not a busy street
where someone might plow into you, and not a place where the bums will bother
you," Mike says. "If the police hassle you, they'll impound your car and you'll
lose everything. I don't want to find out."