On my way through Skid Row to meet up with Estela Lopez, things looked pretty much as they did when I spent time there more than 20 years ago and first heard the promises that things would be better soon.
Tents lined some of the sidewalks, making them unpassable. Some people wore the damage of physical or mental disease, addiction, poverty, or all of the above. Outreach workers with ID lanyards strode through the trash-strewn landscape like lifeguards working against endless tides of fresh emergencies.
When I arrived at Lopez’s office in the 700 block of Crocker Street, where she runs a business improvement district on behalf of 600 or so beleaguered merchants, she had just completed a tour of the neighborhood with John McKinney, a candidate for city attorney.
She held a note card in her hand and shared some numbers, telling McKinney that by her latest count, 131 of the 702 streetlights in the district were out, 27 children were living on Skid Row, and 72 RVs were parked in the area.
“I came out here because I think this symbolizes the greatest failure in government,” McKinney said. “I think it’s the result of bad law and bad policy. I think it’s the result of a lack of leadership and indifference to the way people are living out here. To me, it’s completely untenable.”
But will anything ever change?
It’s a question two people in particular need to address, and I’ll get to that in a minute.
A lot of people I trust and admire work tirelessly to make a difference on Skid Row, and they’re always eager to share the success stories of those who move through and move on. (I’ve got a column on that coming up soon.)
The long-standing problem is that Skid Row is both a social service center and a mecca of drugs and other vices, with traps on every block. And so it’s a neighborhood at war with itself, with some viewing Skid Row as one of the largest recovery centers in the country while others see a snapshot of social collapse.
Estela Lopez has reached out to me several times over the years. About illegal dumping. Typhus. Calls to City Hall that don’t get answered. About the relentless plague of fires, overdoses and assaults.
“Can you imagine, in 24 years, how many people I’ve seen dead on these streets?” Lopez asked me near her office last week.
Estela Lopez runs a business improvement district on behalf of 600 or so beleaguered merchants.
(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
When the local post office closed recently in part because of security issues, Lopez told The Times’ Melissa Gomez that “we have reached a point in this city where we are unable to address criminal activity. … It’s surrender.”
We walked to the corner of 8th Street, where paramedics had just pulled away from a medical emergency. Cars and pedestrians stopped at tents for brief transactions, leaving little doubt as to the nature of the business being conducted.
We passed a caged dog and saw a puppy on a short leash being loaded into a vehicle. There’s a lot of talk about dogs being bred and sold, and Lopez said she’s seen evidence of animals being mistreated.
On 7th Street we passed the charred residue of a recent fire. A half block east, four men were slumped on the sidewalk, hitting pipes. Lopez gets calls from exasperated merchants dealing with vandalism and with people blocking their storefronts.
“I’ve never seen so many people overdose right here,” said Sergio Moreno, who runs a check-cashing business and said his family has been in business going back to the ‘70s. He said he’s seen paramedics use naloxone to revive opioid users, only to see the same people go down again just days later.
“How can you run a business?” asked Moreno, who chairs the board of the business improvement district Lopez runs. “This business is our life. This is how we got through school, this is how we put our kids through school.”
And yet despite paying city taxes and BID fees, Moreno said, problems persist and his customers fear for their safety.
Dr. Susan Partovi, a street medic for 22 years, has been advocating for more proactive intervention for those in obvious distress. Partovi told me she recently saw a man rise from a gutter, pull down his pants and defecate in front of her. She called to get help for him but said neither paramedics nor police determined him to be gravely disabled.
Lopez walks past residents of Skid Row last week. By her latest count, 131 of the 702 streetlights in the district were out, 27 children were living on Skid Row, and 72 RVs were parked in the area.
(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
“We have become complacent with having people lying in the gutter, having diarrhea, speaking nonsensically and putting their lives at risk,” said Partovi, whom I once accompanied as she administered long-acting anti-psychotic injections, arguing that people need clear heads to make better choices.
One sore point for Lopez is the Skid Row Care Campus in the 400 block of Crocker Street, which opened a little more than a year ago and offers all sorts of social services, meds that reduce drug cravings, and supplies that allow for safe use of drugs.
Lopez said she understands the theory of harm reduction: Engage people with a goal of getting them into treatment and back on track. But she wonders how successful such programs are, and argues that they become magnets for lawlessness.
As we talked, a young man approached and told Lopez he’d seen her airing her grievances on TV news.
“I’m wondering, what would be your solution?” he asked.
“I would hope that people could return to life in sobriety,” Lopez responded.
The man said he is “trying to elevate” himself, but that he’d been on a waiting list for housing for six months.
Lopez is tired of being on a waiting list, too.
“If something is working down here,” she told me, “you can’t prove it by me.”
Progress is undeniable, said Sieglinde von Deffner, a social worker and Skid Row coordinator for the Los Angeles County Department of Homeless Services and Housing. But given the “highly vulnerable” nature of the population, “the need is colossal,” she said.
A man stands among his belongings along 7th Street in Skid Row in downtown Los Angeles.
(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
“I have not yet met someone here who doesn’t want housing of some kind. We just don’t have enough affordable housing for everyone,” Von Deffner said, and long-term homelessness makes people harder to reach. “Now, if we could just stop the inflow.”
Dennis Culhane, a University of Pennsylvania professor who researches homelessness and served as an L.A. County consultant, said there are other ways to get people indoors than investing billions of dollars in new housing that takes years to build. Culhane said single adults who are not veterans, including the elderly and disabled, constitute a majority of the homeless population. But assistance is scarce.
“It’s like you have a famine, and you’ve only got food for 15% of the people,” Culhane said.
Rapid rehousing is critical for the newly homeless, he said. But it can take two years for them to qualify for Social Security disability, and once they do, the $1,000 a month “is completely deficient in the face of rising rents.”
Culhane recommends faster approval of SSI benefits and supplementing that income with additional sources of rental assistance. He believes there are enough vacancies at the low end of the housing market to make a sizable dent in homelessness without new construction.
Judy Mauricio, 65, who has been homeless for nine years, rests inside her tent next to her walker. She says her drug addiction has kept her on the street. She receives state disability funds and says she has cancer.
(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
As campaign season warms up, I’d like to know if Mayor Karen Bass and her challenger, Councilmember Nithya Raman, agree.
The mayor of L.A. is limited by a power split with the City Council, and the county oversees most addiction and mental health services. But Skid Row sits just a few blocks from the seat of city authority, and nobody has more power or responsibility to address the decades-long human catastrophe on Skid Row than the mayor.
Estela Lopez and the merchants deserve better. The people on the street deserve better. Thousands of housed residents deserve better.
Does Bass have a plan other than what’s currently in place? Does Raman have a better one?
If so, I’d like to hear the details, and I’m available.
A young girl in southern Lebanon joined hundreds mourning her father, one of three paramedics killed in an Israeli “double-tap” strike during the US-brokered ceasefire. At least 95 emergency responders have been killed in Lebanon, a pattern the UN says may amount to a war crime.
BBC Ambulance took an emotional turn as one paramedic was brought to tears
A BBC Ambulance paramedic was left in tears(Image: BBC)
A BBC Ambulance paramedic was left sobbing as he made a heartbreaking admission.
Healthcare professional Jeff tackled an emergency call that he said “hit close to home” as his dad passed away from a similar issue he had to take on.
Fans of the BBC hit show see real-life emergencies and high-pressure environments as frontline workers give everything they have to save lives in the most critical of circumstances.
During tonight’s (April 15) instalment, which is the final episode of the season, Castleford crew paramedic Jeff and associate ambulance practitioner Eddie receive a call to attend to a 51-year-old man, who has been having trouble getting his dialysis most of the week.
The duo rushed to the scene and after arriving it was clear Dale was uncomfortable as they found him lying in his bed struggling to move.
Dale’s mum explained to Jeff and Eddie that he has been feeling drowsy, has been suffering with pain in his chest and was being sick all morning.
After running some checks, Jeff quickly informed his mum that if they had left it any longer he would have gone into cardiac arrest. Acting quick, Jeff and Eddie rushed Dale to hospital and made sure he got treated immediately.
While sitting in the ambulance, things took an emotional turn as Jeff broke down in tears and revealed: “Quite close to home for me because my dad passed away from renal failure. So it’s quite close to home for me.”
Jeff struggled to control his emotions as he stepped out of the car to have a moment to himself.
Stepping back into the vehicle, he explained to colleague Eddie: “My dad went into renal failure. British National in South Africa, during COVID as well so I couldn’t go and see him and he passed away before he really knew what was happening.”
Visibly moved, he continued: “I think as a bloke sometimes emotionally we don’t deal with what’s going on in the background. The baggage becomes quite heavy until you get to the point where it’s overflowing and your whole world comes crumbling down.”
Jeff added: “I think half the problem is that I don’t do good talking about emotions. People deal with grief in different ways. It’s the little things that can trigger it and it can come out of the blue. My dad dying has definitely been life changing for me.”
At the end of the show it was revealed that after a long illness and multiple hospital admissions Dale died 6 months later
