The center of controversy

Lolita Harper

The crisp, cool air reminds Al Inshaw of home.

It’s 4:30 a.m. and Inshaw is waiting for the first of two buses to

take him from the Balboa Peninsula to the Costa Mesa Job Center. Every

morning, while he waits on the foggy, dark curbside, he thinks about how

different his life was in New Jersey.

“I had a good paying job there and now I have to pull a number every

morning just to try to get some work,” Inshaw said. “It is humbling, to

say the least.”

Alone on the street, while others are still fast asleep, the

45-year-old vows to get his “sober life” back and says the Job Center is

helping him achieve that goal.

The New Jersey native is one of a handful of recovering addicts who

use the Job Center to make ends meet. Inshaw can be found in a small

group of men, who sit off the right side in the back while they wait for

potential work to pull in to the Placentia Avenue site.

The Job Center is a city-funded facility where workers come to get odd

jobs and employers come to pick up cheap labor.

Typically, more than a 100 men gather before dawn to pick a number out

of a lottery. Unless an employer is looking for something specific --

like someone with experience in drywalling -- the premise is simple:

First come, first worked.

That premise might be simple, but little else about the center is. It

has become a divisive issue in the city, a focal point for residents who

want sweeping changes made to the Westside.

At the heart of much of that debate are issues of race and residency.

It’s clear when scanning the faces of those gathered that most of the

men are Latino. Critics of the center say some, if not many of them, are

illegal immigrants.

Because the Job Center is funded with taxpayer money, it requires that

users show proof of legal work status.

But critics charge that this rule is widely ignored, and they have

called for the center to be closed or at least moved to another part of

town. Among the most vocal is Costa Mesa City Councilman Chris Steel, who

was elected last November.

Inshaw’s face provides a different portrait of the center than what is

usually painted in this debate. His troubles are not of residency status

or fears of deportation.

His problem runs deeper than documentation, he said. And the center is

helping him overcome them.

Two months ago, he was employed at a factory on the East Coast. He

lived in a comfortable apartment and never struggled to make ends meet.

Money was not a problem, he said.

Alcohol was.

One day this summer, Inshaw hopped on a Greyhound bus for a

cross-country trip to Newport Beach to help a fellow recovering alcoholic

celebrate one year of clean and sober living. But the long, boring bus

ride was too much for him to handle sober, he said.

“By the time I got to her door, all I could say was ‘help,”’ Inshaw

said.

Without a dollar in his pocket and only the clothes in his suitcase,

Inshaw camped out at a sober-living house in Costa Mesa. Some of the men

at the house told him about the Job Center and said he could earn money

there for his trip back to New Jersey.

When he arrived, Inshaw found himself in a sea of Spanish-speaking men

and naturally gravitated toward those he could communicate with.

While Inshaw cannot hold much of a conversation with the Latinos at

the center, he said he feels a sense of camaraderie with them.

“We are all just out here trying to feel like men again. Trying to

make a hard-earned dollar to take home,” he said.

Still, the stories he tells differ greatly from those told by Latinos

and are a reminder of the divergent problems they face, as well as the

bigger issues that swirl around the center.

For 33-year-old Eccio Garcia, the center has been his primary source

of employment for years. Inshaw has only worked there for about two

months.

Garcia is married, and he and his wife both work -- she cleans houses

-- six days a week to afford space in a one-bedroom apartment in Costa

Mesa that they share with five other people.

Inshaw shares a beautifully furnished, three-bedroom apartment on

Balboa Peninsula with five other recovering addicts.

Inshaw pays $150 a week, Garcia pays $100 a month.

Garcia tells of employers who didn’t even offer him water during the

course of a day and refused to drop him off closer to his home, even

though it was dark and he had no car.

Inshaw recalls the woman gave him lemonade and baked him muffins, in

addition to paying him for the simple task of raking some leaves in her

yard.

Garcia said he stays at the Job Center because “regular” jobs don’t

pay enough. He can make an average of $8 per hour at the center as

opposed to minimum wage, he said.

Inshaw said he prefers the Job Center to a low-paying 9-to-5 job

because he can take a day off in the middle of the week to search for a

job.

“I put in a few days here to cover the rent and then I have some days

to go on interviews,” he said.

One woman who hired him to help paint took one of Inshaw’s resumes and

said she would pass it on to some of her clients.

Although his work at the Job Center -- consisting mostly of general

labor like painting and construction -- is a far cry from a career with

benefits, Inshaw said he has found a new home in Southern California and

wants to establish some roots here.

“I love Newport Beach,” he said. “Although I miss home, I’m going to

try to make a go of it here first. If things don’t work out, then I’ll go

home.”

Garcia thought the same thing but finds himself stuck in the United

States. He and his wife came here because they thought there were greater

opportunities, he said.

“Come to find out, things are the same -- if not worse -- for

immigrants,” Garcia said.

At least at home he is closer to family and not treated like a

second-class citizen, he added.

But he can’t go home yet. Like Inshaw, he is saving for the trip.

“When you’re barely making enough money to eat everyday it is hard to

put some aside for travel,” he said in Spanish.

Despite complaints, both men say they are grateful for the Job Center.

“It’s a Godsend,”’ Inshaw said, in part because the work helps keep

his mind off alcohol.

“I feel good about putting in a day’s work. If I had to sit at home

and brood about getting aid and checks, I’d pick up a bottle again,” he

said.

Paul Daoy, also a recovering addict, agreed.

“Man, I’m just trying to get my life back on track and I need to feel

like I’m really accomplishing something to keep my mind from wandering to

other thoughts,” said the 39-year-old, who lives in a Costa Mesa group

home.

Daoy said he must be disciplined to get up early enough and get over

to the center for work. He knows that if he is lazy or slacks off there

are 100 other men who will be happy to take the work. If he is not there

early enough, he won’t draw a good number in the lottery and could face

the possibility of going home empty-handed.

“Every morning I say my prayers and come on over to see what God gives

me for the day,” Daoy added.

The center provides him the freedom to do something different everyday

and meet new people, he said. He has worked for doctors, lawyers and once

worked with a former Navy SEAL.

It is a perfect place for people to support themselves if they can’t

find or hold a regular job, Daoy said. Plus, he doesn’t have to adhere to

a stringent schedule and work with often unforgiving bosses.

“I’m the kind of guy who gets tired of the old boss. Regular employers

just [upset me],” he said. “If I get laid off, I’m able to come down here

and make a little money and feel better about my self. This place keeps

me off the street.”

-- Lolita Harper covers Costa Mesa. She may be reached at (949)

574-4275 or by e-mail at o7 [email protected] .