By Chastity Pratt

About 7 A.M.- before the building superintendents get to work on East 33rd Street between Second and Third Avenues - James Revels is there with his broom. Limping a bit, he makes his way slowly along the north side, then the south, sweeping away cigarette butts, coffee cups, candy wrappers. In two hours, sidewalks and curbs are immaculate. And Mr. Revels has a few more dollars in his pocket - he is loath to say how many more - handed to him by residents of the small apartment buildings lining the block.

Mr. Revels, who is homeless and sleeps in the Bellevue shelter nearby, has been sweeping the block twice a day since May, ever since Talane Miedaner started Neat Street as part of a course on leadership and self-expression she was taking from the Landmark Education Corporation. The assignment: Create a program that affects a community, be it family, neighborhood, whatever.

Ms. Miedanar, who lives on East 33rd and works as a financial manager for Chase Manhattan, said that when she moved to the city from Arizona, she was shocked by the filth along the city's thoroughfares.

"I always believed New York was too dirty," she said, "but there's no reason New York can't be clean, spotlessly clean." Or at least one block can. Ms. Miedaner asked men hanging out on a corner hear her apartment building if they would be willing to work for what would surely be a sporadic wage. The first person to accept never showed up. Mr. Revels was the second. Come hail or withering heat, he is on 33rd before, during and after the rush hours, wielding his broom and what he hopes is a persuasive smile for the many residents who forget to pay. Ms. Miedaner says her goal is for him to earn $100 a week. When the dollars dwindle, she hands out fliers reminding people that Friday is payday for Mr. Revels.

"He wants to earn his keep," said Suzette Bonsignore, who owns Smolka Plumbing, in midblock. "We collect for him. The people who don't catch him can drop off the money here, but we don't collect that much money, about $8 to $10 a week."

Mr. Revels, 61, says he grew up in Harlem and has always scratched out a living doing odd jobs and janitorial work. He has been homeless on and off for many years. His limp, he says, comes courtesy of a mugger who shot him in both legs in 1991.

On a recent evening, he wore his unofficial uniform: oversized, blackened gloves, a black Smolka Plumbing tee-shirt and a baseball cap.

"I wear brooms out," he said, leaning on a worn handle. "I just got this one and it's almost down to the nub. I get sore sometimes. It's hard, and if they stop paying, I'll resign and let the next person do it. His idea of a reasonable salary? "$100,000 a week," Mr. Revels said, his smile growing wider.

Reprinted from The New York Times, July 16, 1995.