THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, October 15, 1995 TAG: 9510140106
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 16 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: BY TOM HOLDEN, STAFF WRITER\
LENGTH: Long : 299 lines
THEY SUFFER FROM EVERY KIND of ailment: mental illness, beatings from a boyfriend or spouse, unemployment, alcoholism, drug addiction, or terribly bad luck.
Some prefer the vagabond life. Some do not know what time it is. Some are selfish and uneducated. Some are desperate to regain control but have no family, no money, and the wrong skills to offer an increasingly white collar economy.
As varied as their problems are, each is bound by the common thread of being homeless in Virginia Beach, where an estimated 300 to 400 such people live.
For the past nine years a dedicated group of civic and religious volunteers, along with the Volunteers of America organization, have helped feed, house and care for the city's homeless men and women during the winter.
Their efforts are underwritten by a complex mix of public and private contributions that homeless advocates say are stretched too thin to meet fully the needs.
But now Virginia Beach is at a critical juncture. On Feb. 24, the city signed an agreement with the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development and won an $800,000 grant to fund a permanent shelter.
The City Council must decide if it will spend the money and abide by the strings attached to it: That is, the money must be used for a capital expense only, such as a building. Any operating costs, which are unknown at this point, must be paid by the city and/or any nonprofit organization that wins the right to run a new shelter.
On Oct. 24, the City Council will sit down to discuss the grant and its role in handling it.
Generally, the homeless stay in one of two places: in churches that take turns opening their doors to the unfortunate in the Winter Shelter program overseen by the Volunteers of America, or at the Judeo-Christian Outreach Center, a year-round facility at 1053 Virginia Beach Blvd., just east of Birdneck Road.
The Rev. Frederick Guy, pastor of Messiah Lutheran Church on Holland Road and chairman of the city's Homeless Advisory Committee, describes the church-based program as a ``pony express route.''
``They go from one church to the next synagogue one week at a time, over and over again,'' Guy says. ``That was always plan B. Plan A was to have a central site, in that it would be accessible to the homeless, that it would be on a transportation line and convenient for those who volunteer.
``It's not fair to move the homeless around,'' he says. ``They have no address, no place to call at least a tentative home. We feel we're doing them an injustice. We're continuing their homelessness by transporting them (all over the city). They need a place to stay.
``A lot of the homeless have jobs, minimum wage jobs at the oceanfront,'' he says. ``They clean kitchens. They wash dishes. They're doing all the menial jobs. But they can't accrue enough money for a down payment on an apartment. Everyone asks for a month in advance. They just can't do that.''
Kevin Goss landed in Virginia Beach the same way untold legions of other people arrive at the seaside. He had a brother in the Navy who was willing to take him in for a while.
But Goss came with problems that soon surfaced, then flourished. He had a drug problem that started small but grew worse. Before long, the occasional thrill of getting high turned to habit. Goss was hooked and his life began to crumble.
By the time Goss had come to terms with addiction, he had lost his marriage, his five children and, by circumstance, a tooth that fell out when he hit the floor one night in a cocaine-laced stupor.
Homeless and broke, Goss wandered about the Oceanfront, staying where he could and begging meals. Sometimes he'd crawl into an old car in a dealer's lot, or camp in the woods.
It was then that he found the Judeo-Christian Outreach Center. Taken in on the condition he stay clean, Goss seized the chance and slowly began to rebuild his life. Today he works for the shelter, driving a delivery truck for the thrift store.
``I would not have made it if it weren't for this shelter,'' Goss says. ``People here are treated with respect, but people here are on the edge. With some of these people, all it takes is a cross word and they're out on the street again.''
The frustration among the many people who care for the homeless is rising. Some say that they have done themselves a disservice by working so hard to keep the homeless off the streets that they have, in effect, hidden the problem from the community.
``I sometimes think the Winter Shelter program had the effect of sweeping this problem under the rug,'' says Teresa Stanley, the social minister for St. Nicholas Catholic Church on Little Neck Road.
``It's frustrating. There have been meetings, and reports, and more meetings,'' she says. ``The community went out and got that money from HUD. It wasn't the city. The city didn't ante up the money. We earned it ourselves. But they aren't doing anything with it. It's just sitting there.
``I'm frustrated as to why this is being challenged,'' she says.
While the money sits, council debates.
``At this point, I'm still out there on the fringes waiting to be convinced that this is something that government has a responsibility to do,'' says Robert K. Dean, who represents the Princess Anne Borough and who is perhaps the City Council's most fiscally conservative member.
He has several concerns.
With more than 200 churches and synagogues in the city, Dean says church support should be more widespread than the roughly 35 churches and synagogues that now participate in the Volunteers of America program. (Church volunteers insist the number is close to 50 churches - 30 that shelter and 20 that raise money.)
``They feel sure that if we get a shelter running, more will join, but I'm not satisfied,'' Dean says. ``This is another segment of `granny government' and its responsibility to take care of people from womb to tomb. It's a way to transfer wealth from my pocket to someone else's under the guise of social justification.''
Dean is quick to say he's not hard hearted toward those less fortunate.
``When I go to church and give my offering to the Lord,'' he says, ``I do that because I have a philosophic responsibility that flows from my religious beliefs.
``I would like to help others and further the works and word of God. So I reach in and stroke a check every Sunday because that's what I want to do. I expect the church to turn around and use that money for the work of the church, which includes feeding, sheltering and clothing people.
``That, to me, is the church's role.''
Howard is lying in a corner of the Fire Escape on 17th Street near Pacific Avenue talking to no one in particular, except the voices ringing in his head. It's impossible to say how long ago he had a shower, but his clothes are filthy and do not fit. He wears a matted old cap on his head. At about 6 feet 4 inches, he is imposing, and the near constant conversation he has with himself makes him appear scary.
But he is not known to have ever harmed anyone. He just walks about the tiled floor laughing, shouting, talking and jabbering to himself at all the sounds inside. He has no place to go. It's doubtful he knows where he is, but when the weather turns cool he knows enough to find the intake site for the Winter Shelter program at the Fire Escape. Volunteers there will see that he has something to eat and a place to stay at night.
If there is a family, no one knows where it is.
Virginia Beach Borough Councilman Linwood O. Branch III, who testified before a Congressional subcommittee and helped win the HUD grant, envisions a continuation of the existing public/private venture that cares for the needy.
``We have a capable volunteer, nonprofit group asking to enter into a partnership with the city,'' Branch says. ``I don't see why we would not be able to come up with a facility that is more comprehensive in dealing with the homeless.
``It could be a lot better than shipping people from libraries, to churches, to the street, which is basically what we're doing now.''
A staff report prepared for the City Council recommended, with the support of the Homeless Advisory Committee, that any new facility be operated and services provided by a nonprofit organization under contract with the city.
But the staff warns, ``Without an acceptable proposal to operate a facility, the city should not proceed to acquire one. However, it will be difficult for nonprofits to make accurate proposals unless a specific site is identified.''
Dick Powell, director of the Judeo-Christian Outreach Center and a long-time advocate for the homeless, does not believe the city wants to own its own shelter.
``As a citizen, I agree with that concept,'' Powell says.
As one of two groups that has stepped forward with a proposal for the new shelter - the other is the Volunteers of America - Judeo-Christian Outreach would like to build three buildings on Parks Avenue, near the Oceanfront.
The first would be a 24-bed rehabilitation facility; the second would be a 100-bed dormitory for men, women and children, separated by sexes and families and containing laundry facilities. The third would be a dining hall and offices for social service workers, the Veterans Administration, and other outreach groups.
Powell would have the new buildings run by Judeo-Christian Outreach while the city would hold the mortgages for the buildings. Operating expenses would be met by volunteers, donations, staff and city contributions. How much exactly from each remains uncertain.
``You don't ask one person or one group to do it all,'' he says.
Guy, of Messiah Lutheran Church, worries about misconceptions.
``People think this is going to become a New York City flophouse,'' Guy says. ``It is not going to be a flophouse. We have got to face the fact they're here. One of the biggest hurdles for us is that a lot of people don't want to acknowledge that the homeless are here. They're in the woods. They're in the streets. You see them at the Oceanfront especially. We feel we have a mission, a calling, to see that they have a place.
``Somehow there is a belief that homeless people should pull themselves up by the bootstraps and get on with their lives: get a job and be like everyone else. People think that's the reality. It's not the reality.
``How in the world can you get a job and live in a stable community when you're emotionally ill and there's no support and you don't have it in you to go to a community health shelter? You just don't know how to do that. It's hard for us to believe there are people like that out there, but there are.''
In the woods off Virginia Beach Boulevard near the Oceanfront the compound makes its presence felt almost before you reach it. Wine and liquor bottles lie in piles. Junk scavenged from trash bins - old chairs, a crate, newspapers - lie scattered about.
Walk a little deeper into the woods and you find a place where several homeless people live.
``Anyone home?'' a visitor calls.
After a while, a rangy looking man emerges from a makeshift tent. He smells powerfully of cheap fruit wine. His eyes are glassy and his gait unsteady. He is thin and at 8:30 a.m. is incoherent.
He does not want to talk about being homeless and then begins a rambling monologue about society and the rules people live by and how he never wants to live by rules.
``Now I can get a job paying minimum wage, but what am I going to do with that?'' he stammers. ``How'm I gonna get along with that? Working at McDonald's? You think I can drive a car with that?''
Deborah A. Maloney, program director for the Winter Shelter program, hopes the $800,000 HUD grant will go toward an overnight emergency shelter and provide space for services to people not in emergency care, those placed in ``transitional'' care.
``As for the specifics, we'll wait to see what the city's Request for Proposal says,'' Maloney adds. The RFP is a city document that spells out how those who would contract with the city should apply.
Bureaucracy aside, Maloney and others continue to care for the needy.
Winter Shelter is funded by various emergency homeless grants provided by the state and federal governments and some community block grant money. It spends a little more than $100,000 a season, which usually runs six to seven months, depending on the weather. This year's program began earlier this month.
If there is debate about the role of government, it's a surprising one to Maloney, who can readily count the number of city services already supplied to the shelter.
There is a Detoxification Recovery Center worker, a Mental Health outreach worker at the shelter, as well as people from the public health department who screen for TB, HIV and other contagious diseases. A nurse practitioner from the Beach Health Clinic also is available, she says.
``I can't imagine us getting this grant and not using it, that would be an unbelievable waste,'' says Councilwoman Louisa M. Strayhorn, who represents the Kempsville Borough. ``We're not going to be throwing people out on the street. We have to have a shelter during the worst times of the month.''
Strayhorn worries that no matter where a shelter would be built, it would give rise to local opposition from residents who fear a fall in property values. But perhaps more importantly, she says, is the overall responsibility the community through its government has toward those less fortunate.
``We spend millions to improve the quality of life, on tourism, on the amphitheater,'' she says.
The city should find some money for the homeless, she says.
``We have the Department of Social Services. Why do we have that? Why do we help people who have been abused?
``I'd be willing to consider some support from the city, but I won't say how much until I see what the package is. I would pick the one that is most self-sufficient.
``The city must bear a part, like everyone. You can't say that because only a handful of churches out of 200 in the city are supporting that there is no support.
``I find that a shallow argument. We gave money to the Neptune Festival. We give money to all sorts of things. I find it difficult that we can't contribute something if it's going to contribute to the quality of life for these people.'' ILLUSTRATION: [Cover]
HOW CAN WE BEST HELP THE HOMELESS?
[Color Photo]
THE POLS' VIEW
``This is another segment of `granny government' and its
responsibility to take care of people from womb to tomb. It's a way
to transfer wealth from my pocket to someone else's under the guise
of social justification.''
- City Councilman Robert K. Dean
``We have a capable volunteer, nonprofit group asking to enter into
a partnership with the city. I don't see why we would not be able to
come up with a facility that is more comprehensive in dealing with
the homeless.''
- Linwood O. Branch III
``We gave money to the Neptune Festival. We give money to all sorts
of things. I find it difficult that we can't contribute something if
it's going to contribute to the quality of life for these people.''
- Louisa M. Strayhorn
Kevin Goss was taken in by the Judeo-Christian Outreach Center on
the condition he stay clean from drugs. Today, he works for the
shelter, driving a delivery truck for the thrift store. ``I would
not have made it if it weren't for this shelter,'' Goss says.
``People here are treated with respect. . . ''
Staff photos, including color cover by MORT FRYMAN
``We're continuing their homelessness by transporting them (all over
the city),'' says The Rev. Frederick Guy, pastor of Messiah Lutheran
Church and chairman of the city's Homeless Advisory Committee.
``They need a place to stay.''
Dick Powell, director of the Judeo-Christian Outreach Center and a
long-time advocate for the homeless, would have the new buildings
run by his group while the city would hold the mortgages for the
buildings. Operating expenses would be met by volunteers, donations,
staff and city contributions. ``You don't ask one person or one
group to do it all,'' he says.
KEYWORDS: HOMELESS INDIGENT HOMELESS SHELTER by CNB