The driver steps out of the van and clangs a triangle. ‘Food’s here, food’s here,’ Salvation Army Capt. John Purdell shouts. : Mobile Kitchen Takes to Streets to Feed Hungry and Homeless

Darkness is falling as the beige van pulls to a stop in North Hollywood Park.

The driver, Capt. John Purdell of the Salvation Army, steps outside and begins ringing a come-and-get-it triangle, the type seen in Westerns.

“Food’s here, food’s here,” Purdell shouts.

Gradually, shadowy figures approach--out of bushes, off benches and up from the ground.

Tonight, dinner for the homeless men and women of North Hollywood Park is on the Salvation Army. The menu is ham and cheese sandwiches and chicken and mushroom soup.

It is the first stop of the night for the Salvation Army’s food outreach program, the only project of its kind in the San Fernando Valley.

Six weeks ago, the organization decided that it was not enough to provide food for hungry and homeless people just at food pantries or soup kitchens. So, each Friday, the Salvation Army has been taking food to the parks where the homeless live and poor areas of communities such as Pacoima, North Hollywood and Van Nuys.

Skid Row Forerunner

The Salvation Army’s project in the Valley is patterned after its efforts in the Skid Row area of downtown Los Angeles, where a mobile kitchen has been traveling the streets since Thanksgiving, passing out soup and bread every night to about 400 people, according to Purdell, commanding officer of the organization’s community center in Van Nuys.

The Valley program began to take shape last month when a Studio City woman gave the organization a new 15-seat van, big enough to transport large urns of soup and coffee and boxes of sandwiches, blankets and toiletries.

The project has attracted a wide following, with many people already familiar enough with the van’s schedule to wait for it.

Following its usual pattern, “The Good Sam Van,” as it is called, rolled out of the army’s headquarters at 14917 Victory Blvd. in Van Nuys about 6 p.m. Friday.

It takes 15 minutes for the van, loaded with food prepared earlier that day, to arrive at North Hollywood Park, where pockets of homeless men and women have become a fixture.

“I’ll take a little of that soup,” says Helmi, a 61-year-old, well-dressed woman who said that she has been living in her car, parked on the park’s border, since last year, when her real estate business went bankrupt. “I wait for the soup all week. I don’t get soup often.”

Donald (Pops) Miller, the acknowledged “Old Man of the Park,” chews on a Salvation Army doughnut. He says he is 64, lives on a $380-a-month Social Security check and has spent four years in the park. Like many people fed this particular evening, Miller says he is an alcoholic and appreciates all the help he can get.

“I used to be a purchasing agent, made $31,000 a year,” he says. “But then I got a taste of the booze again and came back to the park. . . . We need these meals or we die. God, we’ve lost six people in the last few months. Just the other day, Sandy died, just died in the grass, cirrhosis of the liver.”

Second Stop

After feeding about 25 people, army volunteer Arnold Christensen returns the remaining food to the van. The next stop is the northern end of the park, where about 20 refugees from Central America spend their nights around a barbecue pit.

Jose, a 35-year-old Salvadoran, greets the van as it rolls to a stop.

“Little bit late tonight,” he informs Purdell with a smile.

Many of the men do not approach the vehicle--out of pride, Jose says--but gladly accept the food when Jose and others take it to them. About 20 men are fed. They wave and shout their gratitude as Purdell prepares to leave.

Just before the van pulls away, Jose askes Purdell for a jacket or blanket. He doesn’t find one he likes in a storage area in the back of the van, so he says goodby and walks away, several sandwiches in each hand.

“We know their stock-in-trade,” Purdell says indifferently as he drives away, going east on Chandler Boulevard. “We may give them a blanket and they may sell it 10 minutes later. But they’ll sell it to someone who needs a blanket. So, in the end, our work is accomplished.”

Limitations Acknowledged

On the way to their next stop, Purdell and the two other volunteers say they know their efforts have a limited impact on the problem of hungry and homeless people. On this evening, about 125 people will be fed out of the estimated 3,000 to 5,000 homeless in the Valley.

“Of course, that’s one of our frustrations, but we’re doing something specific and it’s helping people,” Purdell says. “We give them the food without a catch. It’s not like we say, ‘Believe in Christ or else no sandwich.’ We can’t feed them all, but we know that what we give is a bright point in their week.”

Indeed, the only religious references are an occasional “God help you” when the feeding is over. Although the van carries some religious pamphlets, they are rarely distributed.

About 30 men and women, most of whom live in their cars, are already at a closed hamburger stand bordering Hansen Dam when the van arrives.

“Man, we’ve been waiting quite a while. Actually thought about going home,” a woman jokes as the vehicle’s doors are opened.

Similar Scene

The scene is similar to that at North Hollywood Park as a second box of sandwiches is opened to feed the people, who laugh and joke as they eat.

When everyone is finished, Fred, 63, who says he has not eaten in two days, helps Christensen load a heavy soup urn back into the van. He says he is an unemployed construction worker who has lived with the group for three months while recovering from pneumonia.

“I’ve been down for a while, but this soup really hits the spot,” he says.

On the way to the next stop, Purdell spots two middle-aged men walking along Van Nuys Boulevard in Sepulveda. They look like they have nowhere to go and haven’t eaten in a while, so Purdell makes a U-turn and pulls up next to them.

The men are reluctant at first, but then gladly accept the food and a blanket.

“God, this is great,” one of them says. “We don’t get many handouts. I spent 28 years in prison, and now I got a bunch of old injuries piling up. Walking pneumonia, bronchitis, torn muscles. Just got out of hospital. They cut out part of my intestines. It’s the alcohol, it just ripped me apart.”

The two men take a few extra sandwiches, “for a friend,” one says, and the van drives off.

Last Stop

The last stop of the night is in front of United Way headquarters in Van Nuys. At the sound of the bell, men and women begin drifting in from the parking lot of a nearby supermarket. Rich, 31, is one of the first to greet Purdell.

He says he recently got out of jail after two drunk driving convictions and found that his $6-an-hour job at an Elk’s lodge was not waiting for him when he returned from 24 days behind bars. Neither was his apartment.

“I’m really just trying to regroup. Had a run of bad luck,” he says.

The soup is now running low, but there is enough for everyone. After 15 minutes, about 20 men and women lounge along the curb, drinking the last of their coffee. Many walk about half a block away to dump sandwich Baggies and Styrofoam cups into a garbage can.

Purdell gives Rich, who lives in a Pinto station wagon parked nearby, the remaining doughnuts, about 50 of them, and tells him to give them to anyone who arrives after the van leaves.

“Sure will,” Rich says. “Have a safe trip back. And don’t forget about us.”