Some people who work blue-collar jobs may become homeless if injured.

While many Americans make a living without putting much strain on their bodies, millions of blue-collar workers depend on their bodies to earn an income. These workers eventually face a harsh reality: As they get older, their bodies begin to limit the amount of work they can do. In May, I spoke with two homeless older men in Venice. Their bodies used to work well for them, but they stopped working. Both were talented athletes and dreamed of becoming professional baseball players. Then, both got jobs in construction, where the pay was good, but they stopped working. In Los Angeles County, rent is less than $100 and home prices … Average monthly income of over $2,000Anyone who works a blue-collar job is at high risk of becoming homeless, and keeping people from ending up on the streets requires stable support systems for those who can no longer do the demanding work that once sustained them. Kenny and Daniel agreed to share their story with The Times on the condition that their last names not be used. Robert Calon

Kenny

My name is Kenny, I’m 59 years old, and I was born and raised in Santa Monica. I went to Grant Elementary, John Adams Middle School, and Santa Monica High School. I was a slow learner, and by the time I got to high school, my grades had dropped and my A’s had turned into C’s. Teachers couldn’t afford to waste time on a slow learner. I also loved sports, anything with a ball, and was on every team at school. This made my studies very hard, and practice took 2 hours a day.

“I still do construction work if someone asks me,” Kenny said. “It’s better than not working, but the pay isn’t great.”

(Robert Caron)

I was a good baseball pitcher. In Little League, famous pitcher and coach Bert Hooton saw me play and told my dad that I had a “great arm” with my curveball, but that he could teach me to throw a knuckleball that wouldn’t hurt my arm as much. You can’t hit a knuckleball. You never know where it’s going to go. It’s like it’s coming at you. He taught me and I got better. Everyone still calls me “Knuckles.” We were runners-up that year.

I left Samohi and went to Olympic, an alternative high school. I played Legion baseball after that, but I wasn’t big enough. I’m only 5’8″ and I don’t have the arm to throw a 90 or 100 mph fastball when I need to. My fastball is 80 mph on a good day. So I didn’t peak as soon as I could. Everyone around me was growing up and getting better. I left that league and played in another league as a switch hitter for two years, then I started hanging out with friends on Lake Havasu. I made some rich friends in Santa Monica, and they invited me on their $125,000 boat.

I went into construction. I worked as a carpenter for 10 years. After the earthquake, I trained at Cal State Northridge. I started as an apprentice, but after two years I was on top. We had to rebuild the whole place. We tore down the library and built it from scratch. I felt bad for the school. But the math overwhelmed me. It was all drafting. It was like high school all over again. I thought, “If they’re not going to help me, I’m quitting.”

I came back to Santa Monica and started surfing and skateboarding professionally, hanging out with Jay Adams, Jeff Ho, and Tony Alva (who I just met a few months ago on the Boardwalk). Check out my Dogtown tattoos. “POP” is our spot, Pacific Ocean Park. I also worked at a few golf clubs. I think I was always focused on sports because I felt like I wasn’t with the smart kids who were getting B’s, the intellectuals. There was a big disconnect.

I continued working as a carpenter. My rich friends always needed help with their construction projects. One of my kids’ fathers owned an apartment complex and I worked there. I still do construction work if someone asks me. It’s better than nothing. But it doesn’t pay much and I’ve been in and out of apartments and staying at friends’ houses for the last 20 years. I’ve been driving this car for the last 10 years. I used to have a house with my girlfriend in Valencia but she kept pestering me so I told her I was happier without her. I took my El Camino, my skateboard, my wetsuit and my trophy and told her have a nice day.

That all changed in 1999. I lost my driver’s license. I had a great job, probably my favorite job. A friend’s father got me the job. I was a cargo clerk at Gateway Freight Services at LAX. I’d board the plane before anyone else. I had a patch on my arm. I’d carry 1,500-pound pallets. I worked with some Samoan guys. They only had to load the pallets onto the truck, but I needed a forklift. I did that for four years. But when I lost my license, I lost that job too.

My father owned a gas station at Lincoln Boulevard and Rose Street in Venice, across from where Whole Foods is now (yes, next to La Cabaña). When my father passed away, my brothers sold his house and I got $100,000. Of course, I rented a house with it. We lived there for a few years. But then the money was gone.

Daniel

My name is Daniel, I’m 64, I was born in Oxnard and had a great childhood. My mother was a social worker and my father was a contractor. I was valedictorian in high school. I got a baseball scholarship to attend Cal State Northridge and played shortstop. I loved class. I was in the class that Paula Abdul was in. I was good at math, but I wanted to be a professional baseball player, so I was too focused on that and didn’t follow through. I still have about four or five classes left.

“Construction is bad for your knees,” Daniel says. “Baseball started it all, and I’ve had five knee surgeries since then.”

(Robert Caron)

After college, I worked for an electrical company. They sponsored summer leagues, so they had connections with all the contractors. When I wasn’t busy, I got a job at Ferro’s, a framing contractor. It was a steady job for seven years. But I got tired of the Valley, so I moved back to Ventura and worked in mortgage lending — construction loans and refinancing. I was good at math, so I was good at it, but I didn’t love it. There was no base salary, it was all commission. Some months I made $8,000, some months I made nothing. After five years, I quit and started working for my dad at Cement Finishes Union Local 741 in Ventura. I had cousins ​​and brothers there, lots of friends. I worked with my dad for 10 years. We did patios, foundations for houses. We were union members, so we made $42 an hour. This was in 1991. Some semesters I went to night school to make up for classes I missed, but I’m not done yet. I was busy. My son was born in 1993.

Then the union fell apart. We were forced to become non-union. No benefits, no insurance. I tried to go to the union headquarters, but they didn’t have any jobs. Meanwhile, outside, contractors were saying, “We need help. We’ll pay you $250 a day in cash.” I had a baby at home. I said, “I’m leaving.” I was the first one to jump out. At first, everyone was mad, but the next week, everyone was working next to me.

Construction is bad for your knees. Baseball started it, and I’ve had 5 knee surgeries since then. I had this surgery in 2012. After a while, I couldn’t work without pain. I had a limp. I got my inspector license. I did home inspections for 6 years. The money wasn’t great, so I started doing contracting work on the side, working for another licensed contractor. I did kitchens, room additions. I hired my brother. But by 2001, the construction business dried up. Then I split up with my son’s mother.

My sister lived in San Luis Obispo and owned a body shop with her husband. I worked there for two years. I didn’t make much, but I had enough to pay my $400 in child support. I would occasionally go to a famous restaurant called Jocko’s. It’s been there for ages. That’s where I met Kim. We were together for 10 years, and she died of breast cancer on August 29, 2010. She was the best partner I’ve ever had. On her deathbed, she asked me to marry her, and I did.

The first year she was sick, insurance pretty much covered us. Then the payments started to fall behind. (You read the fine print.) When she died, I had nothing. Sold my car, sold everything. Came back to Ventura and met Cindy. We hit it off. I moved in with her and we were together for 6 years. She wanted to get married, but I didn’t want to get married anymore. That was 4 years ago.

I stayed with a couple of cousins ​​and paid rent. I stayed with another friend and paid rent. I moved around a lot. I went to Las Vegas for a month and Laughlin for six. Last December I drove to Venice to visit my friend Andy. We spent a week together playing golf, like we do every Christmas. The second night we went to see a movie and the escalator wasn’t working. I walked up and as I got closer to the top there was a block of ice on the steps. Both of my feet went off. That escalator was stainless steel and sharp. I broke my left hand and wrist, dislocated my shoulder, and cut my right knee. The theater said they would take care of it and that I had insurance, but I ended up having to hire a lawyer. I’ve been going to therapy three times a week for 15 months and my fingers are still numb.

So now I’m stuck here because my doctor, physiotherapist and lawyer are all here. I lived on Andy’s couch for a while but eventually I said no. I went for my car. 6 months later I took it in for repairs and they charged me more than it was worth. I told them to leave it in my car. I spent 4 months in a tent. It was awful. I got this van last week for $500. I’m trying to get into a shelter. I’m disabled, elderly and low income. …But they still haven’t found anything and I don’t know how much longer it will take for a lawyer to negotiate with the theater’s insurance company.

Robert Calon teaches English at Santa Monica College. Robert Caron