I post a daily journal on my MySpace page, I thought this entry needed to be seen, commented upon, and discussed.

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Title : David's Daily, Day Journal Of A Freelance

Reporter, 09/12/08

Item : Homelessness In Los Angeles

release : Free Press Release, compensation is NOT

Required, but customary freelance contribution

fee would be appreciated. If so moved to send

in compensation, please make checks payable

to: David Lee Frater

Shooting-Star Productions

1312 West Maryland Street

Suite 102

Los Angeles, CA 90017-2000

(213) 481-3899

September the 12th, 2008

Normally I write and post my journal before I leave in the morning, not after I come home. I apologize to my readers for this inconsistency.

I cannot excuse my lack of discipline in this day, but I can offer an explanation, I was busy, very very busy, and pressed for time, it was a very productive and very adventurous day.

I had my interview, with the director, and CEO of the largest, best run, most humane homeless shelter in the country, the Union Rescue Mission of Los Angeles, currently run by Reverend Andrew, "Andy" Bales, with more than just a teency bit of help from his devoted executive secretary, and "Gal Friday", Ms. "M", Nickerson, an English woman of more than just exemplary talent and dedication.

The Reverend Andrew Bales is a very handsome, accomplished, friendly and skilled man, absolutely dedicated to his calling. He seems to be under more than just a little stress these days, more than just a little weary. He has been ceaselessly working for the interests of the homeless for 23 years, and has been the CEO of the Union Rescue Mission for the last 4 years now. And recently received some bad news concerning a loan, from the county board of directors, to help fund his efforts, a loan for 2.5 million, which had been denied. Recently, two of his major donors, both women, one named "Carol", and the other, a woman from Pacific Pallisaids, fell victim to these harsh economic times. Carol, once a generous donor, now lives at the Mission, the other woman, was supposed to come live at the Mission, but committed suicide before she arrived. With glassy eyes, and a low voice, Rev Andy declared, "She could not face the shame, the fear, the uncertainty of homelessness, and ended her life instead".

This problem is getting worse, much worse, not better.

According to Reverend Andy, "We are seeing people come into the Mission we have never seen before, full time students, students from fine schools like USC and UCLA, people with full time jobs, but who just can't earn enough to pay the high rents. Grandmothers on Social Security Retirement, forced out of their homes by ever escalating rents in a downward housing market. The price of housing is going down, but the price of renting in Los Angeles continues to go up."

I left over an hour ahead of time, deliberately, because I wanted to not only photograph the mission itself, but the area in which it resides. I strolled the byways, the sticky, grimy, hopeless streets, filled with THOUSANDS of societies cast away persons. Men, Women, Mothers, Fathers, Children, Grandchildren, Families, Grandmothers, the elderly, the diseased, the forgotten, invisible people of Los Angeles. It is a scene that more properly belongs in Calcutta, or Brazil, and not Los Angeles, not a major city of the United States. These are the "castaways", the "untouchables", the discarded persons of a society so infatuated with success and materialism as to consider it morally justified to ignore the helpless. It is a day I will NEVER forget, as long as I live.

So there I was, being the old, out of place, out of date, aging, hopelessly romantic, over the hill hippie I was meant to be... strutting up and down the streets, camera in hand, my press pass proudly bouncing on my chest, 30lb back pack with all my "supplies" in tow... snapping away, innocently, trying to somehow "help" with my craft....

It quickly became apparent to me, that my very presence, my camera, my press pass bouncing on my chest, was an affront, an insult, an attack upon the security and privacy of these people and what little dignity they had remaining.

Normally, when I bounce about, snapping pics in another kind of place, people smile, people come forward, wanting to be noticed, wanting that brief moment on the newspapers page....

But not in this place....

Here people scowled at me, gestured rude signals at me, even stalked and followed me on my journey, threatening me, yelling at me, accusing me, of being the "man", demanding I leave their streets.

Here I was "the man", here, I was "the enemy", here I was asked to leave.

It frightened me deeply, it saddened me deeply, I was here to help, but they saw me as an enemy, a traitor, someone who wished to use up what little they had left. It drained me, and when I came home, I feel on my knees, completely drained, utterly exhausted, and broke down and cried.... For I had fallen in love with the strength of a lost people that could never love me back, and never would.

But tears, however sincere, will not help these people, a voice may, working for change will.

So that is why I am late in posting this today....

Please try to understand my human failings.



Love First, Love Always, Love Only

David Lee Frater

Reporter At Large, Village Of The Angels, Los Angeles, California

davidleefrater@yahoo.com

http://www.myspace.com/davidleefrater