THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, June 19, 1994 TAG: 9406170213
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 16 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY GREG GOLDFARB, CORRESPONDENT
DATELINE: 940619 LENGTH: Long
He wasn't under arrest, but a motorcycle policeman had noticed him openly carrying a bagged bottle of beer and stumbling eastward along Virginia Beach Boulevard.
{REST} Larry, not his real name, also has just defecated in his long, dark pants and was only a block or two away from the tourist-covered resort strip when he was stopped.
In many major cities, Larry, 44, who works as a laborer, would have been arrested on the spot and taken to jail for being publicly drunk.
Virginia Beach, however, has a different approach.
Instead of plopping Larry, who has been diagnosed as a chronic alcoholic and paranoid schizophrenic, in a cold and unforgiving jail cell for behavior and actions that some say are beyond his control, he was placed in the warm and understanding hands of Richard Vercruysse. Known to many as ``Kountry,'' Vercruysse took over, freeing the officer to go about his business.
``As long as man makes grapes, we'll always have drunks,'' said Vercruysse, one of the city's two full-time mobile substance abuse counselors. ``What's not right is to become abusive or destructive.''
Vercruysse happened to be driving right by the incident at the same time the officer was asking the 2nd Precinct dispatcher to request his assistance.
Well-tanned, long-haired and belligerent, the subject was no stranger to Vercruysse, who talked him into getting into the back seat of his refashioned patrol car, and drove him to the city's 14-bed detoxification facility for alcoholics and drug addicts. There he was cleaned up, spent the night and left later the next day, after being advised to seek further treatment.
This special relationship between the city and the public, called the Precinct Program, is the only one of its kind in the state, Vercruysse said. It has operated for the last four or five years out of the Recovery Center, a detoxification facility for alcoholics and drug addicts that unceremoniously marked its 10th birthday June 8.
It is likely, though, that the Precinct Program's success, as well as other discussion topics, such as the center's expansion needs, will be on the lips of about 200 people at an invitation-only celebration at the center Thursday from 3:30 to 5 p.m.
The Recovery Center, behind the Open Door Chapel on Virginia Beach Boulevard, sees about 2,000 to 2,500 people a year. It was established primarily to deal with those who need help with alcoholism. But by 1989 or 1990, it also had opened its doors to drug addicts, a great many of whom are hooked on cocaine.
Physical and mental screenings are conducted on each client, and they also receive around-the-clock attention from one of several substance abuse clinicians on duty. Clients are billed depending on whether or not they are Virginia Beach residents.
Locals are not charged for the services, which may include a bed, bath, meals, meetings and counseling. Others can be charged a standard rate of $85 a day. No one, however, is turned away, according to the center's supervisor, Clyde W. Vandivort, an Ocean Lakes resident.
When the center began in 1984, it had 12 beds, a $245,000 annual operating budget and one part-time, and five full-time employees. Clients numbered 600 that year. It now has 10 full-time, and 20 part-time employees, plus several volunteers and a budget of about $500,000.
It is projected that 2,530 clients will be served this year, and not all of them are of the down-and-out variety. Many professional people, such as doctors, lawyers and teachers, also have crossed the center's threshold.
It is estimated that one out of every 10 people is an alcoholic, which means that in Virginia Beach, there may be as many as 42,000 alcoholics.
That's a lot to worry about for Vercruysse, 52, who carries no weapons, although he has been threatened with violence several times. He covers the 2nd and 3rd precincts.
His counterpart, George Seegal, patrols and responds to calls in the 1st and 4th precincts, including the heavily populated Kempsville Borough.
Clients include those who walk in off the street and those that Vercruysse and Seegal bring in, as well as referrals from police departments, local hospitals or other public service agencies. Clients may stay at the center for up to three or four days. After that they are encouraged to take advantage of other local treatment programs, such as the city's Recovery Center Day Support Program, Virginia Beach Substance Abuse Outpatient Services or any of several other local residential treatment programs.
There is no full-time doctor at the center, but its staff stays in daily contact with Dr. Ernest Reed, a physician with the Hampton Health Department who is the center's medical counsel and a Shadowlawn resident.
Center clients must be at least 18 and half of them are between the ages of 23 and 35. Another 35 percent to 40 percent are between 36 and 54 and about 10 percent over 55. Three-quarters of the clients are male, and about 70 percent are white. Thirty percent are homeless, and about two-thirds are unemployed. A majority have at least a high school education and many have college degrees.
About half of the people the center admits each year have been there at least one time before. Seventy-five percent of the clients have been to the center five times or less and about 25 percent have been there more than five times.
Some of the clients will die unless they change their ways of living.
``You can never predict who's going to make it and who's not,'' said Vandivort, who reads the obituary page in the newspaper every day and clips the obits of those he knows as former center clients. ``I know we lose a lot of people, and you always wish you could have done more. Alcoholism is a treatable disease and we can save lives.''
The road to recovery is often long and arduous, but it can be followed. Just ask Vercruysse, who learned to kick the drinking habit even after his parents fed him beer out of a baby bottle while he was an infant. But his story is more of an exception than the rule.
Another case is John (not his real name). He drinks too much vodka and over the years has become a familiar face at the Recovery Center. He's 55, a Princess Anne High School graduate, and spent 5 1/2 years in the Army, including one tour in Vietnam. After military service, he returned to Virginia Beach to work as an apprentice carpenter. He also operates heavy equipment.
As a young man, he never drank while he was working, he said, but made up for it at nighttime beach parties.
``On that beach in the summertime, you know, one party leads to another party,'' said John, whose body, at a recent morning interview at the Recovery Center following a night of drinking vodka, shook so badly he could hardly talk. ``I never thought it'd affect me like it has. I didn't see it coming.''
He has stayed at a Veterans Administration hospital in western Virginia, but said the 24-day program didn't do him much good. He quit drinking for a while, but soon relapsed. He lives and works, when he can, near the Oceanfront, sharing an apartment with another alcoholic. He tries to stay away from his roommate, he said, because he doesn't need the added temptation to drink.
John has been divorced four times and has three children. Three of his wives didn't drink, he said, but the last one drank more than he did. He said he used to be able to drink more than a fifth of vodka a night.
``Now, I can drink a pint and be on my tail,'' he said, adding that he is sincerely trying to quit drinking. ``I certainly hope I can, because I'm tired of being sick all the time.''
Another case is Ann (also not her real name) who smokes crack cocaine from metal pipes. She said she would probably not be trying to get help if it had not been for her 8-year-old granddaughter, who threatened to kill herself if she didn't get help for her drug addiction.
``If I die, she says she's going to kill herself,'' said Ann one recent morning after admitting herself to the Recovery Center. ``If I die, she doesn't want to live. Hearing that opened my eyes.''
Ann, 45, lives near the Oceanfront and blames her immediate family for getting her hooked on cocaine about 10 years ago.
``As old as I was, I didn't know what cocaine was,'' she said. ``Then, that was it. It messed up my life. It makes you lose everything - self respect, your kids turn against you and no one trusts you. It's a killer. It's definitely a killer.''
Anyone, Ann says, can quit abusing alcohol and drugs if they put their mind to it.
``If you have a strong mind, you can stop it,'' said Ann, who works as a housekeeper. ``I really believe I can do it. If you have a weak mind, you're not going to let it go.''
Dr. Dennis Wool, executive director of the Community Services Board, which is responsible for the Recovery Center, had nothing but praise for the center. But he also said that as the community looks to the year 2000 and sees its population continuing to grow, the center will have to grow along with it.
Fourteen detox beds for a city with a population of about 420,000, Wool said, is not enough. He would like to raise that number to 20 or 24, he said. That could cost $500,000 to $1 million.
``There's certainly room for growth and a need for it,'' said Wool. ``I have a desire for a new facility, but I don't expect to see it'' anytime in the near future.
Vice Mayor William D. Sessoms, however, isn't so quick to dismiss the possibility of the center expanding, and within five years, he said.
``I would not write it off at all,'' said Sessoms. ``I don't mind investing city money when you see positive results. I would probably be willing to be one of its biggest cheerleaders.''
Businessman Harold Heischober, who was the mayor when the center was created, said, ``The need was quite apparent. We were facing up to the realization that the problem was here. It's a national problem and has grown more rapidly than anyone could have imagined.''
He's not surprised to hear that the center is already experiencing growing pains, and said that the community, and City Council, must not drop its guard in its ongoing battle with substance abuse.
Tony Casale, a criminal justice analyst with the Virginia Department of Criminal Justice Services in Richmond, which licenses and regulates the center, said Virginia Beach's detox program is one of the state's best.
He said the city could use a total of 40 beds, ``very easily,'' but that detox centers have little clout when lobbying state legislators for increased funding. The state supplies about 50 percent of the center's budget. The city kicks in 29 percent, and 16 percent comes from the federal level. Fees account for about 4 percent.
Other than the center's clients themselves, no one is happier with the center's success than 2nd Precinct Police Capt., W.W. Davis. He is particularly indebted to Vercruysse, who has an office near Davis'.
``He has really been invaluable for us,'' said Davis. ``He's a tremendous resource and has really won the trust and gratitude of most of the officers down here.''
Even though Vercruysse works hard to free up police officers so they can pursue more serious crimes, cops probably will always have to handle some drunks.
{KEYWORDS} ADDICTION ALCOHOL DRUG TREATMENT
by CNB