INSPIRATION TO EVERYONE HE MEETS.

Byline: Steve Dilbeck Staff Writer

He was a young man full of life. An immigrant from Guadalajara, he was 23 and in America. He was making a nice living at the clothing factory, driving his own car, meeting lovely ladies, dancing into the night.

And he was in the wrong neighborhood, on the very wrong night.

Ruben Hernandez parked his car and walked down an unfamiliar Lincoln Heights street looking for an address, when he was suddenly surrounded by a gang of about eight. After some false accusations he barely had time to deny, a shotgun emerged and a shot flashed at his head.

Hernandez was left lying on the ground, uncertain what had happened. The police arrived within minutes.

``I just felt I was bleeding from everywhere,'' Hernandez said. ``It was total confusion for me. I heard many things. One of the police officers put a light in my face and said, `Can you see?' I said, `No,' but at that time I thought it was all the blood.

``He said, `You have to see!' I know he was upset. Sometimes we forget police are human, too. I was totally blind.''

Two days later, Hernandez learned his vision would never return. And quickly he learned something else almost more painful. He now had a new identity.

``What hurt most was immediately society placed a label on me that said, `Less than human being,' '' he said. ``That really hurt. It was my biggest gripe because I said, `No, I'm alive. Don't tell me that I'm worthless. Don't tell me that.'

``It wasn't only being blind, it was, `Sit in a corner and we're going to take care of you. We're going to give you a check.' Hey, thank you, but no thank you. Give me an opportunity to be myself. Tell me what I can do instead of giving me a check and telling me to be comfortable. That was not a solution.''

Fast forward 27 very remarkable years.

Hernandez is the president and founder of the Unification of Disabled Latin Americans. Disturbed to learn there was no organization set up to help disabled Hispanics, Hernandez established his own.

Now this modest organization that receives no state or federal funding has helped thousands of Hispanics with various disabilities. He puts the disabled to work helping the disabled. He finds them jobs, raises funds, leads them to rehabilitation centers, donates wheelchairs, beds, crutches. He organizes wheelchair basketball leagues. He leads an annual anti-violence march. Every four months UDLA sponsors a graffiti cleanup program.

UDLA is again one of the official charities for the Los Angeles Marathon and is sponsoring 14 wheelchair marathoners in Sunday's event.

But this year Hernandez, 50, received something else from the L.A. Marathon. He was one of three honored with the Patsy Choco Courage Award, an annual award for those who have demonstrated unique inspiration in overcoming a difficult challenge.

``He's been a role model for many, many people because of the things he's done with his life,'' said Vera Martinez, the registrar at the Braille Institute in Los Angeles. ``Nobody can meet him without liking him. I just think he's wonderful.''

Martinez was at the Braille Institute 27 years ago when Hernandez was first brought over from the Hollywood Presbyterian Hospital, just 1 1/2 months after the gang initiation shooting.

Hernandez spent a year there and credits the institute for rehabilitating him and setting him on his course. And he discovered that almost everyone helping the blind could see.

``I thought, `Why not allow the blind to be counselors, teachers? To me, that was a very legitimate question,'' Hernandez said.

When he left the institute, he enrolled at Los Angeles City College. There was no special program for the blind, but the former University of Guadalajara student had two volunteers - Joanne Jones and Alice Peterson - who read his assignments and textbooks to him.

``They became my eyes,'' he said. ``I believe in guidance. God sent me angels every time I needed one.''

His first year at LACC, he struggled to set up UDLA. He organized a meeting, put up fliers, made a pot of coffee and waited. No one came. After several tries, a few handicapped showed and he was on his way.

``The beauty of it was, it was formed with two unique characteristics,'' he said. ``It would be run, controlled and supervised by disabled people of all types. And it would have services to the disabled people of all races, free of charge.''

He went on to UCLA, where he graduated summa cum laude and then devoted full time to his non-profit organization.

Arriving in one of his signature hats, the talkative Hernandez directs a small but busy office, all staffed by the handicapped. Every six months, he brings in a new group of 40-50 volunteers.

``He's one of a kind,'' said Adela Atenza, one of about seven sighted volunteers. ``He just has so much charisma. You have to give him a lot of credit for what he's done with his resources. He can talk to other disabled people and say, `Hey, I did it. You can do it.' ''

Hernandez said his great failing has been never learning how to raise funds. He said his operation normally runs on less than $100,000 per year and there have been many times when he could not pay the rent. He dreams of having his own building.

``But if I die tomorrow, I die a happy man,'' he said. ``I accomplished so much with so many good people around me.''

CAPTION(S):

photo, box

Photo: (color) Ruben Hernandez, front, president and founder of Unification of Disabled Latin Americans, is sponsoring 14 wheelchair marathoners in Sunday's L.A. Marathon.

Michael Owen Baker/Staff Photographer

Box: L.A. Marathon