To stand at the spot where Mariposa Street connects with O Street in downtown Fresno is to see in one panoramic sweep the breadth and influence of American federalism.

Plant yourself at the edge of Mariposa Mall, and look south.

On your left is the Hugh M. Burns state building. Up ahead, just a corner of it visible because of all the trees, is the Robert E. Coyle federal courthouse. To your right is the main branch of the Fresno County library.

Now shift 90 degrees, facing west. There's the Fresno County Courthouse and, in the foreground, headquarters for Fresno police. Next to P.D. is headquarters for the city's Parks Department. And across Fresno Street is the Greater Fresno Area Chamber of Commerce, a good example of the voluntary associations so vital to effective self-rule.

Shift another 90 degrees, so you're looking north. There's the Fresno Memorial Auditorium and, just inside its main doors, Fresno Veterans Museum, a symbol of community gratitude to the citizen soldiers and sailors who have kept the nation free. Not far away is the historic Fresno Water Tower, gateway to Eaton Plaza, that city-owned urban park of such marvelous potential. And only a few yards from where you're standing is the old federal courthouse, named after B.F. Sisk and soon to be remade into a part of Fresno County Superior Court.

Finally, turn another 90 degrees, facing east. Fresno City Hall fills your vision. It is the charge of the men and women working in this stunningly beautiful building to make Fresno work. And if the city doesn't work, all these other branches of democratic government with their delegated responsibilities are harmed. Which means the people are harmed.

One other sight stands out at this unique epicenter of government power -- the homeless encampment that has come to dominate the 100-yard-long stretch of Mariposa Mall between O and P streets.

Throughout the day, the tidy belongings of homeless people line the temporary fence that surrounds the old federal courthouse. During the day, some of the homeless sit quietly on mall benches.

On Friday, at about 3:30 p.m., I watched a homeless man prepare a meal. He wore only a pair of pants. He carried a can of food and an electric can-opener to an electrical outlet at the base of a mall lamp, plugged in the latter, opened the former, then carried it all back to his camp site near the old courthouse fence.

All the while, people walked by, on their way to an office to conduct government business.

I walked this stretch of Mariposa Mall on Saturday night, at about 9:30. I had a flashlight, but didn't need it to spot two men sleeping under bright outdoor mall lamps. It got much darker the closer I got to O Street, but I could see people sleeping near the large fountain.

A smaller group -- perhaps three or four people -- was gathered near a sitting area next to the state building. Among them was a middle-aged woman who said her name was Jan.

Jan said she had a room in a home not far away, but lived on the mall to be with her boyfriend. It's not a bad place, she said: There are public bathrooms in the government buildings, and most of the regulars watch out for each other. She said Police Chief Jerry Dyer occasionally buys hamburgers for them.

But it can get rough, Jan added. Her boyfriend, she said, recently got beat up by a man living near the Water Tower. She said the man sometimes beats up his girl friend, and you can hear the woman's screams throughout the mall.

On Monday morning, about 10, the tidy belongings were again stacked against the fence. One man kept an eye on everything. All about him, the wheels of American federalism turned with apparent indifference to a use for Mariposa Mall that surely is found in no public policy.

And to the fate of the unfortunate people at the heart of this public dilemma.