THE SOUTHLAND DELUGE : Coping With the Rain : Homeless: Field workers offer them shelter, but many street people reject the rules that come with a roof and a bed.

Walking the wet streets of downtown Los Angeles Wednesday, Raymond Blackshire remembered how it was to be homeless in the rain.

Three years ago, Blackshire, 34, spent his nights sleeping on the traffic island at 3rd and Main streets. When the weather was bad, his days were devoted to trying to escape the elements, one way or another.

“Trying to go find me something to get high on, or going to the rescue mission--whichever came first,” he said, adjusting the brim of his bright yellow cap to keep dry.

Marked with the initials “HOP,” the cap identified the now drug-free Blackshire as a field worker for the Homeless Outreach Program, a Skid Row referral service staffed completely by former homeless people and recovering drug addicts.

Known on the street by their first names--Arzina, L. C., Mike, Ray, Ronny and Shannon--they know from experience that in the rain, the homeless suffer the most. Paid to make contact with those who live as they once did, Blackshire and his colleagues patrol the heart of downtown every day, dispensing condoms, bottles of bleach and advice.

And rain or no rain, they do it on foot.

“What’s up? Everybody cool?” Blackshire called out Wednesday as he approached a group of 15 men, some wearing trash bags over matted clothing, who huddled under an awning near 5th and Crocker streets.

“We’re wet!” called out one man who had wrapped himself in one of the silver space blankets distributed by local shelters.

“Go to the shelter, man,” Blackshire said, pressing a condom into an outstretched hand and moving on. His suggestion may sound obvious to the clearheaded, Blackshire said. But when you’re high, sometimes even the most logical solutions evade you.

“A lot of times, you’ve got to remind people, give them something to think about,” he said. “So you say, ‘Man, it’s wet out here.’ And maybe something’ll click.”

This week, Mike Neely, HOP’s executive director, said his office has been successful in finding shelter for nearly all who requested it. That is partly because, for 60 days ending today, a city program for inclement weather has guaranteed the use of nine extra shelters--adding 1,386 temporary beds to the permanent stock of about 8,000.

Beginning Friday, said Patricia Huff, the city’s homeless projects coordinator, the temporary shelters will open only if the weather is 40 degrees or colder--or less than 50 degrees with a 50% chance of rain.

“Over the past few days, it’s worked out very well,” Huff said. “We have not had to turn anyone away.”

Even as the sky unloosed torrents, however, there were dozens of men and women who shunned the shelters, opting to take their chances in makeshift tents and soggy cardboard hovels.

“Regardless of our efforts, there’s always going to be a certain segment of the population who stay on the street,” said Neely, who was homeless for 18 months before he founded HOP. For many homeless people, he said, the rules enforced by most shelters are too limiting.

One of those people still on the street Wednesday was Gladys, 41, who greeted Blackshire with a hug and a kiss. Homeless for nine years, the Chicago native said she has been on Los Angeles’ streets for 17 months, living in a plastic lean-to with six others.

Gladys reported that, just 10 minutes earlier, two Los Angeles Police Department officers had torn her lean-to down.

“It was a house, with a roof and a door,” she said, as she stood over the sopping pile of cardboard and old blankets. “They just got out of the car and yanked it down. Then they send you to the missions, where they put you on a waiting line. Where are we supposed to go?”

Sharyn Michelson, an LAPD spokeswoman, said that although she could not comment on the particular incident, officers usually leave encampments alone.

“As far as Central Division is concerned, if they set up a tent on the sidewalk and they’re not impeding the traffic going by or local businesses, we leave them alone,” she said. “Or, we ask them to relocate. In this type of weather, we want to do what we can.”

Gladys did not want to be referred to a shelter, so Blackshire could only offer her some condoms. She said she didn’t need them, but took a handful anyway--to sell, she said, to the prostitutes.

Farther down the block, standing under an overhang, was a woman he had never seen before.

“What’s up, baby?” he said, engaging her in conversation. She started crying and he put his arm around her. After a whispered exchange, Blackshire gave her a business card with his name handwritten on the front.

“She wanted to get into a drug and alcohol program,” he said, continuing down the street. “I told her I could call and get her in today, but today is too soon. She’s got some more getting high to do.”