RECESSION IN LONG BEACH: A SPECIAL REPORT : Search for a Job Is Answered by a Silent Phone

Jose Rubio spent all day by the telephone one recent Monday, waiting to hear from a glass company where he had applied for a job as a forklift mechanic. The only call he got that day was from a bill collector.

Owens Brockway Glass Co. in Vernon would go down as entry No. 178 in the yellow loose-leaf binder where Rubio has pasted every classified ad he has responded to since a forklift company in Pico Rivera laid him off last November.

Rubio is a gentle man with a firm handshake. He moved to this country from Mexico 22 years ago, but his English is still poor. He always has supported his wife and five children on his mechanic’s salary--$28,000 a year before he was laid off.

Comparison with the federal poverty level--$12,500 for a family of four--indicates that the Rubios are not poor. A look at the way they live says they are.

Five Rubio children grew up in Bell Gardens in a rented two-bedroom house immaculately furnished with yard-sale trinkets and a blue velour sofa they bought on time. Their 18-year-old son, Robert, has not been to a dentist in 10 years; they have no dental insurance. Martha Rubio has not been to a doctor since her last child was born 15 years ago; she can’t afford it.

That was before Rubio lost his job to the recession.

Now the family receives only $760 a month in unemployment insurance, supplemented by occasional help from their children. Their rent, groceries and utilities amount to $774.

That does not include clothing, gasoline for the 1974 pickup truck or the dollar Martha Rubio drops in the church collection plate every Sunday.

It does not include the $1,200 they still owe the cemetery for the burial of their youngest child, Raoul, who died two summers ago in a car accident. It does not include the money Robert will need for books when he enrolls at Cerritos College in the fall or the $60 in shampoo, soap and other items the Rubios occasionally send their eldest son, Geraldo, who is in prison for attempted murder.

“If he’s not part of the crowd then he gets jumped. He’s got to have bandannas and all that stuff,” Robert says shyly. His father lowers his eyes. His mother starts to cry.

Martha Rubio prepares to boil spaghetti for dinner. The kitchen is sunny and yellow. Her 6-year-old granddaughter, Elizabeth--whose bangs stick straight up since her recent experiment with a pair of scissors--is finishing some milk and crackers. Martha Rubio opens the cupboard to reveal two bare shelves and assorted canned foods.

“See?” she says, somewhat embarrassed. “This is all.”

There were no luxuries to cut out when her husband lost his job, so she scrimps on food: less milk, less juice, less beef. The oven is too expensive, so she boils or fries.

“We don’t eat as healthy as we used to,” she concedes.

They get by on money they earn baby-sitting their grandchildren while Rubio combs the classified ads every day. He applies to seven or eight companies a week. He knocks on doors in the neighborhood soliciting auto repair jobs.

One company offered him work as a mechanic for $7 an hour. He was making $14 when he was laid off. He insisted on $12. They hired an undocumented worker from El Salvador for $7, Rubio said.

“Seven dollars an hour fixing forklifts? What mechanic works for that?” Rubio, 57, asks, throwing up his hands. “Maybe it’s my age. Or my English.”

Only two Rubio children remain at home--Robert and Jeannette, who works as a secretary and is moving out in three weeks to get married. When she goes, so will the $80 a month she gives her mother. Jose Rubio does not think about how they will get by; he only thinks about getting a job.

The previous weekend was the best he had had in months. His interview with the glass company seemed to go well. The foreman liked him. Rubio was certain they would make him an offer. At 4:45 in the afternoon, he looked anxiously at the clock, hoping the call would come in the next 15 minutes. It would not.

A woman at the glass company later told The Times that someone else had been hired for the job. “There were five or six applicants. We just got someone more qualified,” she said.

Four days later, Rubio was still waiting by the phone.