Two years ago, the Pittsburgh Downtown Partnership mobilized a few dozen sidewalk ambassadors in anticipation of tens of thousands of visitors for Major League Baseball's All-Star Week.

LaKesha Austin was one of them. She said she was proud to direct, advise and escort tourists around her hometown. When All-Star Week ended, the safety ambassadors remained to help partnership members and the regular denizens of Downtown.

For some of them, Ms. Austin, 36, of Brighton Heights, is a partnership specialist -- the first, and so far only, homeless outreach coordinator.

"The position was created from scratch," said Brooke Rinier, PDP's promotions manager. "She has a knack for it."

Like all seven safety ambassadors -- who are paid from the assessments the partnership takes in from members, most of them Downtown businesses -- Ms. Austin fetches jumper cables, walks people to their cars, helps tourists, calls the police and checks in with businesses that have reported complaints. But the staple of her day is serving the needs of people who live on the streets.

Ms. Austin has been a cook, a mail sorter, a convenience store clerk and has earned an associate degree in criminal justice from the International Academy of Design and Technology. But for this job, she is inspired by memories of tagging along as a kid when her grandmother, a retired social worker for the county, went on case visits.

In a bright red polo shirt, with a first-aid kit, a packet of brochures and holsters for a water bottle and a walkie-talkie around her waist, she makes at least two rounds of Downtown per eight-hour shift.

She knows the names and stories, and which nooks, crannies and alleys are whose. She knows individual bundles.

"Hmm," she said, studying the small encampment of bundles behind a dumpster. "They're usually here. Now this group is like a family. They look out for each other."

She stops to talk to the street regulars, some homeless, some not. Among them, Claudelle Bazemore has had a sidewalk presence on Forbes near Smithfield for years, often with stacks of books.

"She's a person you like to be around," said Ms. Bazemore. "She has relieved me of boredom. We talk about things that are interesting -- classical stuff, history, political science."

Rich Jones, a skinny ankle poking from his worn trousers, said he has learned a more gracious attitude from Ms. Austin, to whom "the poor are very important. She has taught me about giving and receiving.

"I hope I can give more to the community once I have it to give."

Ms. Austin said she takes people to get meals, which she buys. "I don't just hand people money." The partnership buys bus passes for her homeless clients to go to a shelter or a social service agency. She has accompanied several people to the Social Security office.

"I sit with them, wait with them, whatever they need."

For one of her favorite regulars, she is trying to establish a payee so he can collect Social Security payments: "It's too much money for him to walk around with."

Downtown's homeless population may be down significantly, based on last winter's emergency shelter numbers, said Mac McMahon, homeless coordinator for Community Human Services.

"The numbers were less than 50 percent what we saw the year before," he said. "A lot of people have been housed."

He said Ms. Austin takes part in case management meetings at Operation Safety Net.

"She's a great listener," he said. "She got somewhere with a client the rest of us couldn't get anywhere with. I was amazed at what she could pull off, knowing what to do for a guy with severe mental health issues. He wouldn't even speak to me, but she had him talking to her and got him to go [to the Social Security office]."

Of about 100 street people Ms. Austin knows, or recognizes, three top her worry list. One is Harold.

"A success story would be getting Mr. Harold off the streets," she said. "At first, I just stood with him, leaning against the wall, even if he didn't say anything." After a time, she invited him to walk with her. "We talked about anything except his family. That was off limits."

Another favorite, Roy, lives in a personal care home, but for most of her two years on the job, she has seen him on the streets.

"Now there's one I really look out for," she said. "One day it was really cold and I said, 'Roy, you don't look so good.' He looked like he had frostbite but said he didn't want to go to the hospital.

"I said, 'You're going to die, Roy, and I don't care how much you fight me, you're going to the hospital.'"

After successful surgery, she said, "Word got out, and people started looking for me for help."

The last time she saw Roy, she accompanied him to get clean, she said. He has been off the streets for a month, as far as she knows.

"He's been a joy to me, and I miss seeing him, but I know he is making progress. When he's cleaned up, he's handsome. I tell him. 'Roy, you should stay like that.'"