Homeless Hero Explores the Great Indoors

The last time we dropped in on the Homeless Hero of Reseda, he was heading out for a beer.

That was only a couple of months ago, a few days after the foggy wee hours of Nov. 4, when Mark Burdick heard the horrible impact of a high-speed car crash and ventured out from behind his dumpster to pull injured LAPD Officer Martin Guerrero from the fiery wreckage. Guerrero’s partner and a motorist who sped through a red light were killed.

And thus, at the corner of White Oak Avenue and Sherman Way, Burdick, 42, became a celebrity of sorts. Police sang his praises, the media interviewed him and well-meaning citizens sought him out, eager to help him find work or get him into rehab, or both. The Mark Burdick Story got better--more poignant, more ironic--when owners of the Mobil station on the corner declared that, despite his heroic deed, he would no longer be welcome to squeegee windshields for tips on their property, as he had been for three years. The station owners, based in Long Beach, said they had been unaware of his presence.

A lot has changed in two months. And a lot hasn’t.

*

It was Sunday afternoon and Burdick said he’d been to church that morning. Now he was back at his corner, looking better than he did when I met him--neater, cleaner, freshly shaved. He no longer sleeps in a dirt alley near the Mobil station. Now he’s got a roof over his head.

“It’s temporary,” he says. “But everything’s temporary. Even life’s temporary.”

Given Burdick’s recent history, he considers it a sweet setup. He’s living with an Encino couple as he helps them remodel their home. Burdick, who worked in high-rise construction before troubles with drugs and alcohol put him on the streets, exchanges labor for room, board and a modest wage.

He’d met his employers three years ago while cleaning their windshield. “I had this cooking long before the accident.”

He says this with pride, the point being that he isn’t a charity case. The Homeless Hero of Reseda wasn’t handed this job. Mark Burdick landed it. “I hustled this on my own, with the help of nobody.”

That pride may explain Burdick’s ambivalence toward his modest fame and the way people have reacted.

“This community’s full of really generous, good people. People have offered me everything from clothes to money to offers to stay with them, which I wouldn’t do.”

There were a couple of job offers, but nothing better than his arrangement in Encino. He’s more excited about the possibility of being honored by the Carnegie Hero Fund. This legacy of Andrew Carnegie’s fortune is a national program that awards a $2,500 grant to certified “heroes.” An acquaintance gave Burdick’s mother an application. If he is so honored, Burdick says he’d use the money to buy a truck, which he believes would help him find more work.

For all of that, Burdick is grateful. But other reactions have worn thin. People who once regarded him as a bum now accord him a measure of respect. That’s an improvement, but Burdick figures he’s always been the same person. And then there are those who want to get him into 12-step programs.

A couple of these people called me. They thought Burdick, who has a Marine Corps tattoo on his arm, would be an excellent candidate for help from the Veterans Administration.

I wondered if Burdick had talked to a certain psychologist.

“The shrink? I don’t need that. I don’t need her. . . . I’d just rather she work on somebody else. A lot of people need more help than me.

“I’m not part of that. I’m not that far gone . . . until I reach that point, then I’ll check into some damn place to take care of me.”

The way Burdick figures it, he’s pretty much tamed his demons. He doesn’t do drugs as he used to and all he drinks is beer. “I drink a lot of it,” he says with a smile.

It was at about that time that two men drove up in an old compact. They chatted with Burdick briefly and drove away. The men, Burdick explained later, were a couple of Mexican immigrants he’d met at the gas station. They had formed a friendship of reciprocal interests.

Burdick guides them to the Valley’s girlie bars for a little topless entertainment. And they, in turn, spring for beer.

*

I didn’t mean to keep Burdick from his social engagements. He said his friends would swing by later. In the meantime, he’d hang out at the Mobil station and offer to wipe windshields.

Yes, his banishment didn’t last long, or perhaps nobody’s enforcing it. Perhaps the station’s owners have decided that, all considered, it’s best to just look the other way.

Burdick, grinning, puts it this way: “What are they gonna do--call the cops?”

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth 91311. Please include a phone number.

The Homeless Hero of Reseda wasn’t handed this job. Mark Burdick landed it. “I hustled this on my own, with the help of nobody.”