Union Rescue Mission

The Rev. Andy Bales still remembers the man who turned him into an advocate for the homeless more than 30 years ago. Bales, then a teacher at a Christian school in Des Moines, had just taught his students a lesson about Matthew 25:40: Whatever you do to the least fortunate, it’s as if you do it to God.

At his part-time job minding a parking lot a few nights later, a stranger knocked on his window. The man had a dirty beard and was missing teeth. He asked for Bales’ sandwich. “Sorry, sir, I need my sandwich,” Bales replied, and the man shuffled away into the night. That’s when an epiphany struck. “I realized I didn’t practice what I had preached,” Bales recalls.

Through a stroke of luck, Bales found that man on the street later on and fed him dinner – and has parlayed that meal into millions more over the years as CEO of L.A.’s Union Rescue Mission. Since 2005, Bales has led the comprehensive emergency shelter organization and personally overseen the distribution of food, water, medical services and shelter beds to men, women and children in need.

“My goals are to regionalize services throughout L.A. County and really end Skid Row as we know it,” Bales says. “I want to have services in as many neighborhoods as I can so that when somebody loses their home, they can access services in their own neighborhood.”

Skid Row is an “intractable” problem with a variety of forces keeping the sprawling homeless encampment in place, he says. Union Rescue Mission offers homeless clients a bed, three meals per day, donated clothing, showers and hygiene supplies, medical care and counseling. The shelter’s hospitality center also helps guests prepare for jobs by providing a mailing address, phone number and banking services.

The inhumane conditions on Skid Row hit home for Bales two years ago, when he lost his leg after contracting an infection while walking the streets. Shocked public officials declared they would tackle the issue afresh as news of Bales’ amputation spread. “‘If Andy Bales can’t walk down the street and preach the gospel we have to do something,’” he recalls city councilman Gil Cedillo stating at the time.


Now confined to a wheelchair, Bales still canvasses the sidewalks downtown, reaching out to L.A.’s most desperate denizens. “I’m encouraged that at least the loss of my leg prompted action,” he says. “I’d actually offer up my other leg if we could solve homelessness in Los Angeles.”

Bales has a personal stake in the crisis. His grandfather, a WWI veteran who likely suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder, was homeless for most of his life. “He would just pack up the family and they would jump a freight train from Des Moines to L.A.,” Bales says, looking for work, opportunities – anything. “He was thinking they’d find green grass on the other side of the fence.”

From age four to 17, Bales’ father traveled via freight car with his family. “His last week on earth, all my dad could talk about was the pain and shame of homelessness when he was a teenager. Everyone knew about it when he went to school.”

When tackling homelessness, urgency is key, Bales believes. Long-term housing is essential, but until it’s built, “precious human beings” suffer. “The longer you allow people to be devastated by homelessness, they are forever impacted mentally, physically, spiritually, vocationally.”

Bales wants to see 60 Sprung structures erected throughout the city to give people emergency shelter and case management. The plan would immediately take some 13,000 people off the streets. One such structure – for women, who face special dangers while homeless – is already planned for the Union Rescue Mission parking lot.

For Bales, it’s another chance to make good on his teaching: “God has been faithful to me to allow me to practice what I have preached.”

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Maret Marcin