Though they live in the bushes and forage for food in supermarket dumpsters, they insist they’re not bums. ‘Bums,’ they say, ‘are not welcome in Temescal. . . . We don’t want characters like that. . . . It gives us a bad name.’ They are . . . : . . . Temescal Canyon’s High-Class Tramps

Where but in Pacific Palisades would you see a tramp whiling away a sunny afternoon practicing his golf swing?

That’s how Ben Cutway 38, president of the “National Assn. of Temescal Tramps,” spends some of his time.

Cutway, 38, the unofficial spokesman for the decidedly unofficial group, also builds doll houses, using whatever material is available. He offers them for sale daily on a fence in Temescal Park, along with his paintings.

But at night, or when the school children come to play in the park, Cutway moves his gear up the hill, where he and most of his friends sleep.

There are six of them and they emphasize that “we’re not bums, we’re tramps.”

“A bum,” Cutway said, “is someone who walks around with his hand stuck out. They are not welcome in Temescal. . . . We don’t want characters like that going to the Palisades. It gives us a bad name.

“Everybody here is responsible for his own condition. If they want to pitch in and help others, that’s fine. If one of us comes up with food or clothes, we share.”

Most of the tramps stash their belongings in the bushy area above the park, which is private property, according to a spokesman at the recreation and parks department.

Some residents worry that the tramps will make it unpleasant for people to come to the park with their children, and some merchants also object to the hobos.

But John Harrington, who has owned a camera shop in the Palisades since 1958, said, “At first you object to them; then you have sort of a kindly feeling toward them. You feel sorry for them. You wonder how this can happen.

“People are kind of benevolent toward them.”

Park employees also treat them well, Cutway said. When he broke out in a rash after contact with poison oak, he got some salve from a park gardener who had been given the medicine by his own doctor.

“The tramps don’t bother anybody,” the gardener said, “They never ask for anything without offering something in return.

Added Cutway, “We have to get along with the park people, so we try to keep our messes to a minimum.”

They also have to get along with the police.

“There is as wide a range of types of transients as there are residents in the Palisades,” said Sgt. Lee Spargo, who oversees the officers who patrol the area for the Los Angeles Police Department. “There are some constructive, cultured ones that I kind of enjoy having around. Some cause serious crime problems in the area, like thefts from motor vehicles and burglary.”

The Pacific Palisades hobos say an enterprising tramp doesn’t have to beg or steal to live the good life.

Cutway lives in a burrow, hidden in the brush above the park, outfitted with a cot, sleeping bags, a poncho and a tarpaulin. He protects his paintings and a few tools with plastic garbage bags. After a family of opossums invaded his cardboard food box, he began to store food in a metal box, he said.

Much of that food comes from trash cans and dumpsters, he said.

At that moment, a middle-aged tramp who calls himself Kito arrived with groceries and spread them out for a communal lunch. A cellophane-wrapped package of grapes discarded by one store looked fresh enough to sell, as did the other fruit and vegetables Kito had salvaged from a dumpster.

Kito is said to be from Bulgaria. He smiles at friendly strangers but doesn’t talk much.

Cutway laughed, recalling the time one of the tramps bought a barbecued chicken at a local market.

“Right after that,” he said, “someone came in with some chickens he had gotten from the dumpster. They were just as good as the one the guy bought, but the market had thrown them away. We got them free.”

One market, the tramps insist, discards the entire contents of its delicatessen trays at day’s end when several fast-food retailers also dispose of leftovers. One of the more popular brands of yogurt can be found in the dumpsters when it reaches the expiration date stamped on the cover.

Things that can’t be found in dumpsters, such as tobacco and paper for roll-your-own cigarettes, or a saw and glue for use in doll house construction, are purchased with money received for salvaged aluminum cans.

Several members of the “association” own second-hand metal detectors, useful for finding lost money or jewelry.

‘Interesting Hobby’

Lenny, a dignified man with a full head of white hair and well-trimmed mustache, calls metal detecting an interesting, and sometimes profitable, hobby.

It has taken him up and down the beaches, to deserted hobo jungles and to areas near parking meters in Beverly Hills, he said.

Lenny, 56, is vague about his past. He was an ambulance driver for five years and occasionally does odd jobs. He was married once but said, “I never did want to settle down.”

Lenny doesn’t spend all his time in the canyon. A couple days a week, he rides his battered old bicycle into Los Angeles and stays with a friend. He enjoys his solitude and resents the hobos who wrongly assume he wants to socialize.

“I don’t like bums,” Lenny said, “but I’ve met a lot of nice people right here in the canyon.”

One of them is Tom Bailey, an officer who patrols the Palisades regularly for the Los Angeles Police Department.

Lenny recalled the time he needed change to take a bus into Los Angeles, but had only a dollar bill. Spotting Bailey’s patrol car, Lenny stopped him and asked for change. When Lenny recounted his plight, Bailey and his partner each handed the hobo a dollar and wished him a Merry Christmas.

Many of the tramps shy away from conversation with strangers.

There’s Al, for example, who speaks a number of languages. His friends call him “the professor” and Al likes it that way. The 60-year-old agreed to be photographed but refused to give his last name, saying that he has been associated with too many universities and might be recognized.

Inspires Speculation

Then there’s Bill, who appears to be between 50 and 60, an elusive man who refuses to talk about himself and strides through the canyons with almost military bearing, inspiring speculation about his past.

Some say Bill was once a wealthy Palisades homeowner. Rumor has it that his family legally assumed management of his property when Bill opted for the free life.

Don, 59, is the sixth tramp who is a regular in the canyon. Because he owns a camper and buys his clothes at a second-hand store, he is considered wealthy by the others. He parks the camper on Temescal near the beach each day, then, metal detector at hand, sets out on his bicycle. At night, because it is illegal in Los Angeles to sleep in a vehicle parked on a public street, Don moves his camper to a different location.

Don says he holds a master’s degree in music from Oberlin College in Ohio, and has taught music privately and on the university level.

He left the music behind some years ago and set out to make a living as a trapper as he followed the Oregon Trail. When that dream didn’t pay off, Don settled for playing the organ two days a week at a Westside church.

Becoming a tramp required some attitude adjustment, Don said.

“It took me a long while to be able to get rid of the pride long enough to bend over and pick up a can, stomp on it and take it to a recycler.

“It takes a long, long time to handle people saying, ‘This is the old professor, picking up cans.’ ”

Don hopes that his dog, Soby, will bring in some money, perhaps in a dog-food commercial or performing on a television show. One of Soby’s tricks, which he demonstrated, is to find paper money, no matter where it’s hidden.

“He can pick a wallet right out of your pocket,” Don said.

Like the other tramps, however, Don said he doesn’t dream of great wealth, just enough to get by on.

And Cutway says he has a good life.

“I’m the richest man in the canyon,” he said, pointing to his doll houses. “I have two homes, a beautiful yard and my own gardener.”