Homelessness surges up and down US West Coast

In a park in the middle of a leafy, bohemian neighbourhood where homes list for close to $1 million, a tractor's massive claw scooped up the refuse of the homeless: mattresses, tents, wooden frames, a wicker chair, and an outdoor propane heater. 

Workers in masks and steel-shanked boots plucked used needles and mounds of waste from the underbrush.

Just a day before, this corner of Ravenna Park was an illegal home for the down and out, one of 400 such encampments that have popped up in Seattle's parks, under bridges, on freeway medians and along busy sidewalks. 

Now, as police and social workers approached, some of the dispossessed scurried away, vanishing into a metropolis that is struggling to cope with an enormous wave of homelessness.

That struggle is not Seattle's alone. A homeless crisis of unprecedented proportions is rocking the West Coast, and its victims are being left behind by the very things that mark the region's success: soaring housing costs, rock-bottom vacancy rates and a roaring economy that waits for no one.

 All along the coast, elected officials are scrambling for solutions.

"I've got economically zero unemployment in my city, and I've got thousands of homeless people that actually are working and just can't afford housing," said Seattle City Councilman Mike O'Brien. "There's nowhere for these folks to move to. Every time we open up a new place, it fills up."

The rising numbers of homeless people have pushed abject poverty into the open like never before and have overwhelmed cities and nonprofits. 

The surge in people living on the streets has put public health at risk, led several cities to declare states of emergency and forced cities and counties to spend millions, in some cases billions in a search for solutions.

Homelessness is not new on the West Coast. But interviews with local officials and those who serve the homeless in California, Oregon and Washington confirm it's getting worse.

 People who were once able to get by, even if they suffered a setback, are now pushed to the streets because housing has become so expensive.

All it takes is a prolonged illness, a lost job, a broken limb, a family crisis. What was once a blip in fortunes now seems a life sentence.

Official counts taken earlier this year in California, Oregon and Washington show 168,000 homeless people in the three states, according to an AP tally of every jurisdiction in those states that reports homeless numbers to the US Department of Housing and Urban Development. 

Rising rents are the main culprit. The median one-bedroom apartment in the San Francisco Bay Area is significantly more expensive than it is in the New York City metro area, and apartments in San Francisco are listed at a higher price than those in Manhattan.

With alarming frequency, the West Coast's newly homeless are people who were able to survive on the margins – until those margins moved.

For years, Stanley Timmings, 62, and his 61-year-old girlfriend, Linda Catlin, were able to rent a room in a friend's house on their combined disability payments.

Last spring, that friend died of colon cancer and the couple was thrust onto Seattle's streets.

Timmings used their last savings to buy a used RV for $300 and spent another $300 to register it. They bought a car from a junk yard for $275.

Now, the couple parks the RV near a small regional airport and uses the car to get around.

They have no running water and no propane for the cook stove. They go to the bathroom in a bucket and dump it behind a nearby business. They shower and do laundry at a nonprofit and buy water at a grocery depot. After four months, the stench of human waste inside the RV is overwhelming. Every inch of space is crammed with their belongings: jugs of laundry detergent, stacks of clothes, pots and pans, and tattered paperback novels. They are exhausted, scared and defeated, with no solution in sight.

"Between the two of us a month, we get $1,440 in disability. We can't find a place for that," he said. "Our income is [about] $17,000 ... a year. That puts us way out of the ballpark, not even close. It might have been enough but anymore, no. It's not."

Ellen Tara James-Penney, a lecturer at San Jose State University, has been sleeping out of a car for about a decade, ever since she lost her housing while an undergraduate at the school where she now teaches four English courses, a job that pays $28,000 a year. Home is an old Volvo.

"I've basically been homeless since 2007, and I'm really tired," she said. "Really tired."

The crisis is not limited to large metropolises. In Oregon City, a suburban, working-class town of 36,000 people, the police department this summer added a full-time position for a homeless outreach officer after roughly half the calls concerned trash, trespassing, human waste and illegal encampments.

All along the West Coast, local governments are scrambling to answer that question and taxpayers are footing the bill.

Voters have approved more than $8 billion in spending since 2015 on affordable housing and other anti-homelessness programs, mostly as tax increases.

 Los Angeles voters, for example, approved $1.2 billion to build 10,000 units of affordable housing over a decade to address a ballooning homeless population that's reached 34,000 people within city limits.

There is so little housing, and so much despair. Nonprofit workers with decades of experience are shocked by the surge in homeless people and in the banality of the ways they wound up on the streets.

"It's a sea of humanity crashing against services, and services at this point are overwhelmed, literally overwhelmed. It's catastrophic," said Jeremy Lemoine, an outreach case manager with REACH, a Seattle homeless-assistance program. "It's a refugee crisis right here in the States, right here under our noses."

"I don't mean to sound hopeless. I generate hope for a living for people – that there is a future for them – but we need to address it now."