Mark Horvath, a documenter of homelessness who was once homeless himself, was touring a tent city in Sacramento when he raised his cellphone to take a photo of one man's ingenious shopping-cart storage system.
Suddenly, another man rushed at him, screaming, with a knife.
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Tuesday, July 21, 2009 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 4 National Desk 1 inches; 36 words Type of Material: Correction
Homeless advocate: In some editions of Sunday's California section, an article about Mark Horvath's cross-country trip to document homelessness said the L.A. Mission gave money to Horvath's effort. It was the Union Rescue Mission that contributed.
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Sunday, July 26, 2009 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 4 National Desk 1 inches; 39 words Type of Material: Correction
Homeless advocate: In some editions of the July 19 California section, an article about Mark Horvath's cross-country trip to document homelessness said that the L.A. Mission gave money to Horvath's effort. It was the Union Rescue Mission that contributed.
Horvath was terrified, he said, but not so scared that he stopped sending photos and text messages about what was happening.
"I am a little scared because people will protect their home and everyone is angry," read one, followed soon after by another: "One man . . . starts screaming at me. I walk away. Two guys follow me to my car. I'm scared."
Five hundred miles away in Los Angeles, Heather Meeker sat on the edge of her chair staring at her computer screen, anxious for Horvath's next update.
Meeker is director of marketing and communications for the social media storytelling website Whrrl, which lets users create online storybooks using their own photos and captions.
She was afraid, she said, that Horvath was going to be attacked mid-message.
As it turned out, the encounter ended peacefully. It also led to a relationship between Horvath and Whrrl that has helped turn Horvath into one of the Internet's most outspoken homeless advocates.
In recent months, he's become a darling of the social media industry, followed on Twitter and sought after as a speaker at conferences.
Last week, with corporate sponsorship, he set off on a two-month nationwide tour of homeless encampments -- a grander version of what he has been doing over the past year.
In stories on Whrrl and videos he posts on his blog and on Twitter, Horvath lets homeless people talk -- raw and unscripted -- about their panhandling, lost children, drug addictions, sorrows and hopes. He punctuates their words with plenty of his own.
"I've often heard people who were never homeless themselves talk about what a lucrative job [panhandling] must be," he wrote this spring. "Please note: panhandling is not a good career move. Besides the humiliation, it's very dangerous and . . . the perks are not all that great . . . people spit on you."
Such frankness is unusual in a world in which many advocates are hypercareful about avoiding negative stereotypes.
The National Alliance to End Homelessness estimates that 2.5 million to 3.5 million people experience homelessness each year in the United States, including 600,000 families and 1.35 million children. Many live in motel rooms, cars or shelters, but tent cities have sprung up in growing numbers across the country.
