The 13-Year Wait on Government

Unlike government, Anna Figle never worked slowly--unless there was a good reason.

Years ago, she boned chickens on the production line at a Campbell’s soup factory. With other ladies in frocks and hairnets, she cut up the meat and tossed it in huge vats brimming with soup.

Figle was the fastest on the line--ever. Her speedy ways earned her bonus after bonus. So admired was her flashing blade that, on the eve of her retirement, time-and-motion experts came to capture her technique on film.

Her co-workers were beside themselves. “Anna, don’t let them know your secrets,” they begged. “They’ll just force us to work even harder.”

When the big day came, the experts set up their lights, positioned their cameras, and told Anna to start cutting.

And she did--with the slow, deliberate, sawing that a novice might use on a Thanksgiving turkey. The experts urged her to pick up the pace, to get with it, to move--but Anna valued some things in life more than quickness.

Fast-forward several decades:

It’s 1987 and Anna has long since left the soup company. An 85-year-old widow, she is staying in Thousand Oaks with her daughter’s family, sleeping in the living room on a rented bed.

Conditions were cramped. The house was just big enough for Bill and Gladys Vietinghoff and their two grown sons. But Anna’s Social Security checks didn’t go far, and affordable apartments were at least as scarce then as they are now.

“Mom, if we could just get you a place. . .,” Bill would say.

In Ventura County, the lists kept by local housing officials were apparently all full. But just down the freeway, Los Angeles County was at least taking names.

On March 17, 1987, Anna Figle registered with the L.A. County Housing Authority.

She knew it would be a long wait. These days, families in L.A. County often wait eight years for public housing and people applying from outside must wait even longer.

In Ventura County, the wait is frequently six years, said Douglas Tapking, executive director of the county’s Housing Authority. Low-cost housing is scarce, and in boom times subsidies from the county can’t begin to match the going rate for rent.

So, for Anna Figle, the time rolled on. For quite awhile, she camped out in the living room. Finally, her family found a spot for her in a Thousand Oaks home for the elderly.

Just last month, a thick sheaf of papers addressed to Anna arrived at the Vietinghoff home. It was a “pre-application” from the L.A. County Housing Authority, and demanded information on any stocks and bonds Anna might own, any criminal record she might have, on her current address, family members, medical expenses, refrigerator, stove, vehicle and more.

Authorities must update such information before directing people to apartments. Sometimes it’s just a few months between filling out pre-applications and finally crossing the threshold of home, sweet, home.

It was the first word the Vietinghoffs had heard from L.A.’s housing people in 13 years. (A housing official said a postcard was sent in 1989, but the family doesn’t remember it and it was unclear just what the postcard may have said.)

In any event, the papers came too late.

Anna Figle, a woman who once used quick wit and slow motion to help her friends, died four years ago.

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Steve Chawkins can be reached at 653-7561 or by e-mail at steve.chawkins@latimes.com.