Wes, a 63-year homeless ex-felon with diabetes, high blood pressure and a bum knee, left his camp before dawn and hobbled nearly two miles to the Napa police station.

He needed a bicycle, an apartment, medical care and some hand-holding. After cooling his heels for nearly an hour until the doors opened, he went into the lobby and dialed up Brandon.

That would be Brandon Gardner, the police department’s homeless outreach advocate.

Within Napa’s homeless community, Gardner is nearly as popular as the free meals at the Salvation Army and The Table at First Presbyterian Church.

Gardner is a big bear of a man with a gentle touch. Hundreds of Napa’s down-and-out have had his business card pressed into their hands over the past two years. When you want help, call me, he tells them.

Before Gardner, “law enforcement was just doing law enforcement stuff,” said Sgt. Debbie Peecook, Gardner’s boss. And public complaints about the homeless soared.

In 2006, police received more than 3,000 calls about anti-social activity, from boisterous loitering and drunkenness to fights, trespassing, thieving.

Homeless calls were consuming an ever-greater share of patrol officers’ time, police Chief Rich Melton said. “With outreach, we wanted to work on the problem before it became a call.”

The program has been phenomenally successful, Melton said. Homeless calls plunged by two-thirds to 1,000 last year. In downtown, such calls dropped from 1,197 to 275. Over the same two-year period, the number of arrests of homeless people fell by nearly half, from 554 to 302.

One by one, the police homeless outreach has redirected some of the city’s most recalcitrant street people into housing, treatment programs and jobs.

Jim Featherstone, the county’s assistant director of Health and Human Services, praised having the Police Department as an ally. The county has many treatment services, but specialists who plunge into homeless encampments are a rarity, he said.

Gardner invited Wes into a small interview room. He had previously helped Wes find food and clothes. He’d even bestowed one of his own sweatshirts.

The task this day: Motivate Wes to complete a federal application for Supplemental Security Income. This would give him barely enough money get an apartment if he got a roommate.

Wes promised to get to the SSI office that afternoon, then presented Gardner with his wish for a mountain bike to help him get around. “They have them reasonable at Wal-Mart,” he said.

Gardner was noncommittal. He needs to work with Wes on how to budget, he said later.

Wherever the homeless are — under bridges, along the river, shopping center parking lots, homeless services centers — Gardner goes, often assisted by Peecook.

“When we go out together, he’s the good guy, I’m the bad guy,” Peecook said. Sometimes it takes being threatened with citation or arrest for people to accept help, she said.

“I do whatever it takes to get people off the street,” Gardner said. He creates resumes, acts as a chauffeur, makes calls for social services, pumps people with optimism.

The street homeless tend to have a host of problems, leading to perpetual discouragement, Peecook said. “They get told ‘no,’ ‘no,’ ‘no,’ ‘no,’” she said.

“I try to be very upbeat,” said Gardner, who claims success in helping 38 people get their own housing this year. Over the long haul, he will be happy if 50 percent stick.

“There are always underlying issues,” Gardner said. “If you can admit what the faults are, we can work with you.”

Lowell Downey, a resident of Old Town, credits the police program with reducing the magnitude of his neighborhood’s homeless problem, but the aggravation is still huge, he said.

He encounters loitering, drug and alcohol use and boisterous behavior on a daily basis, he said. If police calls are down, part of it could be citizens weariness that the situation will remedied, he said.

On an early June morning, Peecook and Gardner set out in an unmarked police car to make their rounds.

On Randolph Street, across from the HOPE homeless center, they touched bases with George Elicker, a 75-year-old man who lived for nine years in his camper until police had it towed. Elicker, who was now living with his brother, had a line on an apartment just a block away.

Gardner had Elicker initial and sign a rental agreement, then turned his attention to Eric Honodel, 44, a recovering alcoholic who said he was “living under a tree in a sleeping bag.”

Honodel had been housed, but lost it, Peecook said. Now the mission is find a less expensive place and team Honodel up with a roommate who won’t lead him astray, Peecook said.

Honodel said he was worried about continued homelessness and idleness. “I’m right on the verge of falling back in this mess,” he said.

Honodel suggested a likely roommate, but Peecook looked askance. “He has issues,” she said of his choice. “Who else could you reasonably room with?”

Homeless people are in a Catch-22, Peecook said. They can’t get housing unless they have a job and they can’t get a job unless they have housing.

“Employers tend to like real addresses,” she said. “There is a stigma they won’t show up for work if they’re homeless.”

Having a criminal records is not a plus in the search for jobs and housing, Gardner said. Many homeless have rap sheets. Some are sex offenders. Personal demons, such as mental illness and addictions to drugs and alcohol, are common.

“These are some of Brandon’s challenges,” said Peecook, noting that Napa’s homeless shelters won’t take the most problematic cases. “We’re the one agency that doesn’t discriminate,” she said.

Saying good-bye to Honodel, Gardner and Peecook cruised over to Riverside Drive where they found Jeff, parked with a bike trailer loaded with cans and bottles, feeding the ducks.

“Thank you for keeping this place a lot cleaner than before,” Peecook said. “We appreciate your effort.”

Jeff used to store his junk along the bank, drawing complaints from neighbors. “It was horrible,” she said. “They think they’ve found treasure, then they can’t get money for it.”

At South Napa Marketplace, Peecook knocked on an RV known to double as a local man’s permanent home. “You have to be careful when you knock on an RV,” Brandon said. No one was home.

Finally, they visited a woman with three young daughters living in an RV parked on Solano Avenue, across from Redwood Plaza. “Debbie from the police department,” Peecook called out. “Put your clothes on. I’m not going to arrest you.”

Kay, 36, stumbled out and greeted her visitors. She complimented Peecook’s earrings.

Before engaging in chitchat, Peecook announced that she would search the RV, as permitted by Kay’s probation agreement. Nothing suspicious turned up. The children were away at a school event.

Standing on the sidewalk, Gardner urged the woman to apply for waitressing jobs. Once she had employment, she could better qualify for housing, he said.

Kay recited roadblocks to getting a job. The court had yanked her driver’s license. She owed $2,000 for two speeding tickets. Some social service agencies have rebuffed her. “I don’t knock on doors anymore,” she said.

Kay “talks a good story,” Peecook said later. More was going on than met the eye, she said.

Although the Police Department is cutting back support staff, the homeless outreach program is secure, Melton said. The city will be spending about $90,000 this year, with the county contributing $25,000 in federal funds, he said.

For this amount, Gardner will work full-time, with a part-time assistant who has yet to be hired, the chief said.

Gardner said he would continue to visit Kay, wherever she happened to be parked. “It makes it hard, but we’ll get it done as long as she shows forward momentum,” he said.

“We don’t think anybody is beyond reach,” Gardner said.

“We can’t do 100 percent for them,” Peecook said.