Sunday, Oct. 23, 2005 | 10:03 a.m.
For instance, according to a small study released Thursday to some government officials, the typical homeless person in the Las Vegas Valley is a single, white man in his 40s who is neither a military veteran nor disabled.
Sounds like the kind of person who could most easily find a job and a place to live.
But statistics don't tell the complete story of homelessness, of who these people are and how they got into their predicament. A compassionate society, if patient enough, should hear the story of each homeless person who is trying to better himself. Only then might we empathize.
So here's my report on Mary Bailey and Jared Pettinato, whom I met last week at the corner of Main Street and Owens Avenue. That area of town is something of a homeless magnet because of a handful of outreach organizations located there.
The couple was well groomed and cogent.
Mary, 34, her brown hair gathered in a plastic clip, is staying at Shade Tree, a women's shelter, with her twin 5-year-olds. She's 8 1/2 months pregnant by Jared, who's just 20. Jared, thin with a golden brown beard, is sleeping at a facility across the street.
They met in Austin, Texas, about 15 months ago. His best skills are making cabinets and installing windows; she worked usually as a shopping mall security guard.
They went to California to improve their lives, a decision that backfired.
They landed in Orange County, where Jared got a job installing windows. Six weeks later, he said, the company folded.
The couple said they lived, with Mary's young children, in a motel for a while. Going broke, they started sleeping in his Ford Escort at a local campground.
When the car broke down, they decided to try their luck in Las Vegas. A trucker gave them a ride to town for $160 -- cheaper than taking the bus -- and they arrived in Las Vegas with $400 to their name.
Most of the money went for a week's rent at a local motel; a local church gave them some food. Jared went to a day-labor center to look for work, but wasn't hired. Another church that gave them a voucher for a week's stay at a second motel.
Jared still couldn't find a job. "He needed to try harder," Mary told me, glaring at her boyfriend.
A welfare check from California paid for another two weeks at a motel. When that money dried up, Jared sold candy bars to tourists walking along the Strip.
"I remember talking to a homeless guy," said Jared, as if distancing himself from that world. "I asked him why he was smiling and he said it was because he couldn't remember the last time someone had bothered to talk to him."
A week ago, they joined the others who end up at Main and Owens, looking for help.
She and her children landed beds at Shade Tree. Thanks to some cash handouts, Jared has been spending his nights at Catholic Charities' St. Vincent Plaza, where dorm beds go for $5 a night.
After the baby is born, Mary wants to get hired as a security guard, and Jared said he'll re-double his efforts to find a job in the cabinet business. With a couple of paychecks, she said, the couple will get into a motel and, eventually, an apartment.
The 5-year-olds, meanwhile, are enrolled in kindergarten.
"People think the homeless are skanky and aren't trying to help themselves," she said. "But we are. We're trying to do all the right things. We don't blow our money on gambling, liquor or drugs."
I'm not sure where Mary and Jared fit into the statistics. They're trying not to be one.
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