UPCOMING EVENTS
WORKSHOP:

   WORKING WITH THE MENTALLY ILL
   Designed for those working with the homeless
   March 14, 2006   1:00 p.m. until 4:00 p.m.
   Presented by Peak Wellness Center
   Sponsored by Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless
   Richards Center,  4700 Ocean Loop

   7th ANNUAL WALK IN MY SHOES FUNDRAISER
   Sponsored by Beacon Hill Baptist Church
   June 3, 2006, Registration 8:00 a.m. Walk 9:00 a.m.
   Registration $12.00 prior to June 3, 2006
   $15.00 on the day of the walk
   GHOST WALKERS WELCOME
Click Here for Walk Registration Form
   Print it up and mail it in with your check
   Or stop by 907 Logan Avenue to register.

WYOMING WINDS
March 2006
A publication of
The Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless
907 Logan Avenue
Cheyenne, WY 82001-5247
307-634-8499
fax: 307-634-9089
© 2006
email:  wch@vcn.com

CLICK HERE FOR TABLE OF CONTENTS
CLICK HERE FOR LINKS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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Mad Housers Build Huts for Homeless
By Jonathan Springston
Atlanta Progressive News

(APN) ATLANTA - The Mad Housers, a non-profit, volunteer, charitable organization founded in 1988 by a group of Georgia Tech architecture students, builds emergency huts for the homeless in the Atlanta area at no charge.

"We are just providing a basic piece of capital," Nick Hess, 35, President of The Mad Housers, told Atlanta Progressive News (APN). The organization sees the huts as a tool to help the homeless survive and do not view what they do as "giving handouts."

"This is not supposed to be where they live the rest of their lives," Chad Jubyna, 36, a Mad Housers volunteer, said. "[These huts are] supposed to be a stepping stone so [the client] can have a safe place to put their things, a more secure place to sleep and stay warm."

Each year, The Mad Housers seeks to build 18 huts and actually construct about 16. Most huts are 6 feet by 8 feet, are 10 feet tall, and are big enough for one person. They are simple structures, comprised of four walls with a gabled roof, a sleeping loft, a locking door and a stove for heating and cooking.

Atlanta Progressive News was fortunate enough to observe and participate in one of these builds on Sunday, February 26, 2006. To protect the privacy and safety of Mad Housers' clients, APN has agreed not disclose the location of this hut nor any of the others.

Once on the brink of dissolution, the Mad Housers are stronger and better than ever.

"We're doing a lot better," Hess told Atlanta Progressive News (APN). "We have a warehouse, mailbox, an office, officers, and a functioning board." Just five years ago, the Mad Housers did not have any of these.

Hess first became involved with the group in 1991 as a Computer Science student at Georgia Tech. After several years, Hess left the organization because of conflict and infighting. He returned in 2000, became President, and began working hard with other members to bring the Mad Housers back from the brink.

"I am fully confident that if I were to drop dead right now, the organization would be fine without me," said Hess.

Volunteer rolls have swelled to over 150 in five years and show no signs of slowing down. "The volunteers we have are the greatest people on Earth," Hess told APN. "These are guys who take responsibility, who stick with it, even when the rewards are nebulous, and who understand what we're doing and why."

"I've always wanted to do something with the homeless [and working with the Mad Housers] seemed like the perfect opportunity," said Chad Jubnya, 36, a Mad Housers volunteer for three years who has participated in nearly 20 builds."I'd like to be able to help more people," Jubnya told APN. "I wish we could build every week but it's a lot for the volunteers."

The Mad Housers receives monetary donations from individuals and, because Mad Housers is a nonprofit organization, people who donate money can write off their donation come tax time. Mad Housers also takes old paint, doors, cinder blocks, firewood, and 2 x 4's from anyone who wants to give.

"We've built up a fairly decent surplus [of donations]," Hess told APN. For example, the group can call Home Depot, order $1500 worth of materials, and have it delivered for $50. This is a luxury the Mad Housers could not afford five years ago.

So whom do the Mad Housers help? "We handle from the absolute no-hopers to folks who are struggling," said Hess.

One client for whom The Mad Housers built a hut worked at McDonald's for 10 years. Because he could only work 28 hours per week at minimum wage, he could not receive benefits. This client struggled for years, going in and out of his hut, before he finally earned the means to leave the hut for good. Other clients are so destitute that it is doubtful they will ever leave their huts.

The screening process is not too rigorous. However, "it's difficult.to find people who can survive out there," Jubnya told APN.

"We can only get to a certain type of person," said Jubnya. "You can't just take somebody from downtown and bring them out to the woods," Jubyna told APN, referring to certain homeless people's ability to survive in the wilderness.

The Mad Housers do not run the camps where they build huts. But Hess told APN the organization would not hesitate to take action if they feel trouble is brewing.

"We will shelter people who have addiction issues even though there's the possibility of trouble," said Hess. "It's the likelihood of trouble that we're worried about."

"We don't want camps to become crack dens. When somebody becomes a hazard, we will and we have come in with crowbars and taken [a hut] down," said Hess.

"If we get the impression from you that you're engaged in activities that's going to bring negative attention to you," then The Mad Housers will not build a hut for that person.

While volunteers do return to visit camps to weatherproof huts based on the season and make needed repairs, the Mad Housers generally take a hands off approach to the camps, choosing to let the residents manage their own affairs.

Receiving permission to build a hut on a site can be a complex issue. The Mad Housers do not generally ask permission to build on a site. Instead of creating camps, the Mad Housers find existing camps and build huts in hopes of improving the camps. If a camp has been at a site for a long time, then either: the owner is aware of the presence and is OK with it, the owner does not know the camp exists, or the ownership of the land is in dispute and homeless people are living there until the dispute is settled, which could take years, according to The Mad Housers website.

The Mad Housers leaves it up to the homeless individuals seeking assistance to make arrangements for permission with owners of the abandoned properties where the huts are to be built, where applicable, Atlanta Progressive News has learned.

Whenever an owner asks for a hut to be taken down, the Mad Housers always comply. The police do not cause trouble for the camps as long as the residents do not cause trouble.

Volunteers, who become volunteers by simply showing up to the warehouse on building day, load a truck with all the necessary materials and depart in as few vehicles as possible. We arrived at the site at around 11 a.m. and finished construction around 2:15 p.m.

The entire process, from fashioning raw materials into appropriate components to completing a hut takes approximately 50 man-hours at a cost of around $450. Once completed, the ownership of a hut goes to the client and that person makes improvements as he or she sees fit.

If a client is able to move out of a hut, then another person can come in and live there. Some huts have lasted well over five years, when they were meant to last only two. "It's not an end solution," said Jubyna. "It's supposed to be part of a process of helping."

The organization is developing two other types of huts to meet the needs of clients, according to madhousers.org. One design calls for more space to accommodate a client who is married or in a long-term relationship. These huts are built with a higher roof pitch and a loft with more headroom.

The other design is a low rider, a four foot cubed structure that is for sitting and sleeping only and less visible. Because of the compact dimensions, these do not have stoves because of the fire hazard. A small front porch provides sitting space, making the low rider feel less like a bunker.

A Mad Housers hut has been on display at the Athica Gallery in Athens, Georgia, since late January of this year. The hut contains many photos of other Mad Housers huts and literature about the organization. Sunday March 5th, 2006, will be the last day to see this hut before the exhibit closes. The Mad Housers intend to find a client in Athens who can live in the displayed hut.

Resource:
Find Out More About The Mad Housers - click here

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Nothing Stops Mardi Gras
By Jordan Flaherty

In New Orleans’ Central Business District, a prominent billboard advertising Southern Comfort liquor proclaims “Nothing Stops Mardi Gras. Nothing.” The festive ad haunts me, seeming callous and cruel, "you've faced a huge loss, and now we want to use your city and cultural traditions to sell a lot of alcohol."

Citywide, Mardi Gras is everywhere, but not without controversy. Many are angry at the idea of a huge party taking place while bodies are still being recovered in Ninth Ward houses, And in diaspora communities such as Atlanta, there is a lot of anger at the idea of a huge party going one while they are kept out. A past leader of the Zulu Mardi Gras Krewe even sued his organization (unsuccessfully) to stop them from parading this year.

I have mixed feelings. I love Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Not the parades and Bourbon Street you see on TV, but the other Mardi Gras that the media doesn’t show. There are Mardi Gras traditions for nearly every neighborhood and community, a series of cultural customs ranging from King Cake and the lewd displays of Krewe Du Vieux to the dogs parading in Barkus; the clown punks and shopping cart battles of Krewe Du Poux; the fabulous costumes of the St Ann Parade; and more than anything the cultural traditions of Black Mardi Gras, encompassing everything from Zulu, the one Black major parade, to neighborhood celebrations involving the masked Mardi Gras Indians, Skeletons, and Baby Dolls.

I spent a recent Sunday evening participating in an annual tradition called Indian practice in New Orleans’ Central City neighborhood. As preparation for the music, dancing, and rituals involved on Mardi Gras day, more than a hundred people from the community packed close and sweaty into a small bar, singing, drumming and dancing to songs that everyone knew every word to, the room all singing and chanting together the classic song of Black Mardi Gras, Indian Red: “Here comes the Big Chief / Big Chief of the Nation / the whole wild creation / He won't bow down / not on that ground / you know I love you hear you call, my Indian Red.”

In the midst of this crowd, I could forget for a moment all the devastation outside. However, when I asked Nick, who had spent his life here, living in this neighborhood that decades ago was filled with Black-owned jazz clubs and businesses, how many of his neighbors were back, he estimated less than 10 percent. While official estimates are higher, the fact remains that even in a Black neighborhood like Central City, which was not heavily damaged or flooded like the now-famous Ninth Ward, people have still not been able to return. A range of obstacles, including redlining by insurance companies, the mass layoffs of city workers, closed schools and hospitals, and continued fear and uncertainty about the safety of the levees surrounding the city, has kept people out.

During a recent Sunday service at a church a few blocks away, the Reverend Jesse Jackson asked the 500 people in the room how many of them had evacuated. Every hand went up. He then asked how many still had family and loved ones who had not returned, and again every single hand in the room went up.

Adding to the emptiness, Calliope and Magnolia, two public housing developments in the neighborhood that were mostly undamaged, remain deliberately empty; most residents have not been permitted to return.

In fact, this week our at-large city council representative, Oliver Thomas, declared publicly that many of the residents should not be allowed to return. Reinforcing the stereotype that people are poor because they don’t want to work, Thomas stated, "There's just been a lot of pampering, and at some point you have to say, 'No, no, no, no, no,” and added, "we don't need soap opera watchers right now."

At the same meeting, Nadine Jarmon, the appointed chief of the Housing Authority of New Orleans (HANO) declared Thomas’ position reflected their policy, adding if “they don't express a willingness to work, or they don't have a training background, or they weren't working before Katrina, then (we’re) making a decision to pass over those people.” These statements were made while, six months after the hurricane, thousands of undamaged units sit empty, thousands more homeless New Orleanians face eviction from FEMA hotels on March 1, and tens of thousands of renters that lived in damaged homes have no where to move to, and no governmental officials seem to care if they come back. In the midst of this crisis, Thomas, two other council members, and the chief of HANO blamed the victims. What about single parents and caretakers? What about the elderly, injured or disabled? Don’t they deserve housing, even if they don’t have training or an extensive job history? Why are only public housing tenants asked if they intend to work? ,p>At a recent demonstration organized by New Orleans Housing Emergency Action Team (NO-HEAT), former residents of the St Bernard Housing Development, many of them visiting for the day from their exile in Houston, expressed their desire to return to their homes. One resident proclaimed that he was going to move back into his home as a form of civil disobedience. While his action is inspiring, the idea that it requires civil disobedience to move back into your own undamaged home is profoundly disturbing. Is this what we’ve come to?

At a recent presentation at Tulane University, Thomas Murphy of the Urban Land Institute spoke about the Institute’s recommendations to the city, including their plan to develop the (wealthier, whiter) areas of the city on high ground first. He also recommended three books to the mostly student audience, including The Prince by Machiavelli and Rules for Radicals by Saul Alinsky, saying, “our mission should be to stand up for those with no voice.” When I asked him how he reconciled his passion for the voiceless with his recommendations to build up wealthy areas first, and why he wasn’t standing up for renters or those in public housing, he evaded the question with comments about a “criminal sociology” that develops in public housing.

The victims are being blamed. People of this city, who have contributed so much to the culture of this country, who have created a culture that is now being enjoyed by tourists and others, have always been left out of the profits, and are once again shut out, and put last in line. As Loyola Law Clinic Director Bill Quigley has said, “what if we turned the priorities upside down, instead of saying that we are going to start with building up the high ground, what if we prioritized restoring housing and justice for those who had the least to begin with?”

Even for many of us who lived in areas with minimal flooding, like my relatively privileged block in the Seventh Ward just off the high ground of Esplanade Avenue, the coming months hold a mostly unspoken fear. We have little faith in the levees, little faith in the Army Corps of Engineers, little faith in our government. As one friend who lives a few blocks away from me said to me yesterday, “it’s just a flip of the coin, and it’ll be us next time.”

For many of us privileged enough to be here, its bittersweet to see another Mardi Gras. It’s a time of year we used to look forward to, and while there is much to mourn, we also want to embrace our loved ones, embrace our city, and maybe even embrace the decadence. Meanwhile, the city rolls on – plans are made, funds are distributed, some neighborhoods are declared unviable, more people are evicted, and that Southern Comfort billboard taunts us, “Nothing stops Mardi Gras. Nothing.”

Jordan Flaherty is a resident of New Orleans, an organizer with New Orleans Network and an editor of Left Turn Magazine. Click here for his previous articles from New Orleans.

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Homeless Couple Enjoying Comforts
By MATT KATZ
Courier-Post Staff

(WEST DEPTFORD)The homeless couple who survived four years in a tent on the side of the highway finally has an indoor place to stay, a bed to sleep in and a shower to use until at least next week.

"I fell off the bed three times," said Diane Lessig, after spending her first night in a motel room Thursday night. "I'm not used to being up -- I'm used to being down there. This is not my norm anymore."

The couple was living in the woods between the Interstate 295 entrance ramp and Delsea Drive until Wednesday, when state police told them to leave for the third and final time.

With nowhere to go -- the couple lives on disability income and has no contact with family members -- they went down the block to Storage Depot.

They stuffed themselves and their belongings into a rented storage unit and avoided moving around so they wouldn't be caught by security cameras. Lessig said she spent the night standing.

Thursday morning, Paul Szkotak, the owner of Storage Depot, was astonished to learn on the front page of the Courier-Post that there were people living in one of his units.

"The first thing that runs through my head is I can't let people be in that position," he said. "If I was in that spot, I would want people to help me out."

So help he did. He and his staffers spent the day on the phone with the Gloucester County Board of Social Services, which ultimately sent a taxi to pick the couple up and put them in a West Deptford motel until next Wednesday.

"He had a heart of gold," said Richard Brooks, who was sleeping on the floor of the compartment when Szkotak arrived.

Social Services would not discuss the plan for helping the couple because of confidentiality laws. And a donation fund has not been set up for the couple -- despite dozens of e-mail messages and calls to the Courier-Post offering financial support -- because it could affect their disability benefits.

Lessig, 43, and her fiance, Brooks, 53, have mental and physical disabilities and became homeless after Brooks lost his construction job. The couple has refused to move into homeless shelters because they don't want to leave each other or their cat.

Their cat was taken to a veterinarian Thursday, and will be reunited with the couple soon.

"We're still in awe -- I feel like I'm in the twilight zone," said Lessig, who was finally able to get to Glassboro Friday to pick up an emergency $600 payment from the Social Security office.

The couple's future after next week is up in the air, but Lessig said she wants a kitchen so she can cook the "good stuff" once again: ham, roast beef, meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

"I also want the other people (living outside) to come out and open their mouths before they end up dead," Lessig said. "You lose purpose. Without purpose, why bother? You feel worthless."

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Coalition Pushes Lawmakers To Target Homeless Beatings As Hate Crimes

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. -- The National Coalition for the Homeless and the Cooperative Feeding Program of Fort Lauderdale are calling for federal and state lawmakers to recognize attacks against the homeless as hate crimes.

The coalition chose Broward County as the site to release its annual report on violent crimes against homeless people, entitled "Hate, Violence and Death On Main Street USA," after the recent beatings of three homeless men in Fort Lauderdale that killed one of them.

Three teenagers face murder charges in the death of 46-year-old Norris Gaynor and aggravated battery charges in the videotaped beatings of Jacques Pierre, 58, last month. They are also suspects in the beating of Raymond Perez, 49. Thomas Daugherty, Brian Hooks and William Ammons are being tried as adults.

Police said Ammons admitted he shot Gaynor in the torso with a paintball gun while Daugherty bashed Gaynor's skull with a bat. Daugherty and Hooks were also caught on surveillance video beating Pierre with bats on the Fort Lauderdale campus of Florida Atlantic University.

According to the report, 86 homeless people were attacked throughout the country last year. Of those 86, 13 of them died, the report said.

Michael Stoops, executive director of the coalition, said violence against the homeless has increased over the past six years. Stoops said he would like to see homelessness added to the federal hate crimes statute.

"What happened in Fort Lauderdale will no doubt happen again," said Michael Stoops, executive director for the coalition. "It might not be caught on videotape the next time, but I can assure you it will happen again." He was right.

Thomas Kotowski, 36, was found bloody and nearly unconscious Tuesday night outside the H&M Discount Beverage Store in Palm Beach County, Riviera Beach police spokeswoman Rose Anne Brown said. Authorities are looking for three suspects, described as young men or teenagers. Kotowski remains in critical condition. No motive has been established.

Two state lawmakers have also called for statewide legislation that would treat attacks on the homeless as hate crimes. If the proposed law passes, anyone convicted of such an attack would receive increased penalties.

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Training Helps Homeless Man Find a Place of His Own
Mary Jimenez, Shreveport Times

Every day after work, Earl O'Kee goes home.

The 49-year-old doesn't take that simple pleasure for granted after he was able to move out of the Shreveport-Bossier Rescue Mission and into his own place last month.

"It feels nice going into your own door, kicking off your shoes and putting your feet on a table," said O'Kee, who lived in the Rescue Mission for a year but is now employed by Altec Environmental Consultants Inc. after completing training through a grant-funded Brownfields Job Training program. "I always knew I'd be OK -- I have a drive in me. I don't give up on nothing to easily."

O'Kee became homeless after being laid off from road construction work.

"I've always worked, but when I got laid off, I had to make some sacrifices," said O'Kee, who is separated from his family, which includes six children and four grandchildren scattered across the United States. "A friend told me about the Rescue Mission."

Homeless doesn't always mean an individual without marketable skills, said Mike Kennedy, operation manager of the shelter.

"The people that we see vary from men with no skills to others that may have very marketable skills. Sometimes it's just something that happened in their life that brought them down," said Kennedy, who was happy to see O'Kee stick with his goals. "Earl had jobs over the years that were affected by weather, but he always had the drive to succeed. He stuck with it."

When O'Kee saw a flier for a free eight-week training program that would give him more skills, he made a call to Tabatha Taylor, director of the program. Then he made an office visit to remind her to keep him in mind, then he made sure he was available for an interview.

"He showed up 24 hours early to his interview because he didn't want to miss it," said Taylor, who felt the goals of the program fit O'Kee perfectly. "His perseverance and dedication was duly noted, and if I was the employer, I'd want someone just like O'Kee. He has a quiet spirit and when you meet him you're just drawn in."

The Brownfields Job Training is funded through grants from the Environmental Protection Agency and is a collaborative effort between local agencies and universities across the United States to offer applicants skills in environmental clean-up.

Brownfields are pieces of property on which development is complicated by the presence of hazardous substances, pollutants or contaminants.

Shreveport and Southern University first collaborated in a successful brownfields program in 2000.

The most recent training, with 35 participants since October with one more class scheduled to start in June, also carried the added incentive of giving displaced evacuees skills they can take back to New Orleans.

In addition, one of the ongoing goals has been aimed at recruitment of trainees from socioeconomically disadvantaged communities.

"We recruit all over, but of course we do look for that population that isn't working," said Taylor, who includes life skills such as finances and job readiness into the program along with the hazard materials training. "For example, we just covered wills. We want to make sure they are well-rounded. A lot of times we naturally assume because we know, that everyone knows. I'd rather be guilty of them having too much information than too little."

O'Kee had a plan, Taylor said, and that led to his success.

"He once told me, 'I have three weeks and I can move into my own place.'" Taylor said. "He knew he didn't want to live (at Rescue Mission) the rest of this life. Some people fall on hard times, but the important thing is that when you fall you're able to get back up."

Roy Dowling is president of Altec, which is providing part of the training for the program. He employs trainees for half-days during the eight-week course, a unique aspect to the training that's benefited both the program participants and Altec.

"That Earl was able to move out of the Rescue Mission is huge," said Dowling, as impressed with the men as he is with the program.

O'Kee said his faith also helped carry him through his down time.

"I had to do my part, too," O'Kee said. "But you have to be patient -- God sees all our needs."

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Putting a Roof Over Their Heads
Neisha Lofing, Bee Staff Writer

Two cherry-red potholders hang side by side above the stove in the Victorian split-level house on Walnut Street in Roseville. Canned food and spices are stacked neatly in the pantry. There's milk in the refrigerator.

A washer and dryer share space in a large bathroom that does double duty as a laundry room. Here, the smallest of conveniences are not taken for granted. Here, five men can leave fear and stigma at the door and enjoy the small comforts of life while pulling their lives back together.

The Somers House is the newest addition to the Lazarus Project, a transitional housing program for homeless men and women in Placer County.

The Lazarus Project, which now has three homes - two for men and one for women - provides housing and support services such as counseling, job training and access to health care to the homeless. The goal is to help them become self-sufficient.

The opening of the latest home was celebrated Saturday night at the program's annual fundraiser and St. Patrick's Day dinner. The home is named for Mindy Somers, who entered into a lease-purchase agreement so the program could apply for a grant that could help offset the cost of the property.

David Loya, the program's executive director, said the reason behind purchasing the three homes is to pass on housing with services, not homelessness, to the next generation.

"This gives them a place to come home to and creates an environment of success," he said. "It gives them a chance to feel like a part of the community without stigma."

The goal of the dinner Saturday was to raise about $25,000 to help with the program's costs. Among the largest sponsors were SureWest Communications, the Lytal family, Griffin Industries, Safeway and Placer County Supervisor Ted Gaines.

Gaines allocated $2,000 of his county revenue-sharing money to the fundraiser. Supervisors Bill Santucci, Robert Weygandt and Mike Holmes also allocated revenue-sharing funds, totaling $700.

"I think (the Lazarus Project) is great," Gaines said. "It complements our services available for the homeless in Placer County."

Since the program began in 1998, the Lazarus Project has helped more than 200 men and women, with a success rate of about 74 percent, Loya said. The rate is based on the person's ability to maintain self-sufficiency and become a contributing member of society.

The "housing first" approach to homelessness - finding people housing and then addressing their needs through support services - is very successful, Loya said, but depends on the generosity of the public and private sector. "Everybody thinks homelessness is the government's problem," he said. "We need companies and citizens investing in programs like our own if we're going to end homelessness."

One of the main lessons to be learned from the program, however, is a simple one.

Cheri Soden, the program's case manager and counselor, said people need to stop treating homeless men and women differently and start treating them with compassion.

"I don't think (people) understand that they are you and me," she said. "They think that they are all mentally ill or are drug-or alcohol-users or the guy on the street holding a sign, and that just isn't the case.

"We need to treat them with compassion - to treat them as less than we are is ridiculous."

Enter Brian Mullen. Mullen, 38, is tall and lanky, impeccably dressed in khaki pants and a slate-blue shirt, which complements the blue-gray rims of his glasses.

His past reads much like that of many people.

He earned a bachelor's degree from University of Nevada, Reno, and worked for UPS for 14 years. He's traveled to Europe.

But when his sister died of ovarian cancer a couple of years ago, he gave up his UPS job to be with his mother out of state.

After three months of living with his mother, he returned to his life in Roseville, living off savings and stocks that he sold.

But he couldn't leave the grief behind. Over time, Mullen found it harder to get out of bed each morning. The thought of getting a job became a cloudy memory.

Then the money ran out.

"I didn't know how to ask for help," he said.

Mullen lived on the streets for three months, sleeping under bridges and trying to survive. "It's hard because you can't do things like laundry, and you got to keep thinking about where it's safe to stay at night," Mullen said. "There's really no chance to relax."

For Mullen, reality began to hit home when he was walking down the street one day, and people rolled up their car windows as he walked past.

"It's sad how society takes homelessness," he said. "I remember thinking, 'This is just not fair.' "

When he came across a flier for the Lazarus Project, the tide turned.

Mullen was accepted into the one-year program near Christmas and lived at the Sierra House for a few months before coming to the newest Lazarus Project home.

Now, he has a home, is treating his depression with medication and counseling, has found a job with Roseville's Parks and Recreation Department and is studying to obtain a teaching credential.

"It's nice to feel comfortable," he said. "It's an honor to be here, and it's a very humbling experience." Mullen said he strives to succeed in the program, which he calls "a blessing."

"I want what life has to offer," he said. "I want to reach the light at the end of the tunnel, because where I was was so dark." Above all, Mullen said his slip into homelessness has taught him about humanity and the generosity of others.

As he sat at the kitchen table and talked about his experience, one phrase was repeated over and over again. "I can never give back what was so freely given to me," he said. "I feel like I have been blessed."

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Homeless Advocates, City Wrestle With Challenges
By Judith R. Tackett,

Nashville's chronically homeless are mostly visible downtown, where they sometimes drink booze, panhandle, urinate, defecate, deal drugs, fight, and harass passersby - all in public and all illegal activities.

Of course, sometimes even tourists and locals alike, and with homes, engage in such unsavory behavior.

As such, some social activists, including Steve Reiter, claim the homeless are being harassed by law enforcement and security officers downtown.

Reiter believes every person has the right to be left alone, regardless of his or her residential status.

At the Mayor's Homeless Commission meeting last month, Reiter brought the problem to the forefront and specifically accused security officers hired by the Nashville Downtown Partnership (NDP) of harassing the homeless.

In response, Vice Mayor Howard Gentry, who chairs the commission, promised to discuss the issue at the March meeting, which was held last week.

Tom Turner, NDP executive director, said since 1999 his group has had an ongoing contract with Block-by-Block, a security company based out of St. Louis.

The company helps with trash clean-up downtown and since past September has hired off-duty Metro police officers to patrol a designated area between Fifth and Eighth avenues and Commerce and Union streets, including the tiny Church Street Park.

"The directive that we have is to enforce the laws in the books, and I think that's what they're doing," Turner said. "Our interest in having [these police officers patrolling] downtown is the fact that 45,000 office workers come there every day, we have 2,500 residents and we get millions of visitors coming to downtown each year."

After intense discussion, commission members agreed that part of the solution to harassment lies in education - educating law enforcement officers in how to deal with homeless individuals to avoid misunderstandings, educating the homeless about existing laws and the consequences if they are broken, and educating churches and restaurants about the need to have a license from Metro Parks before serving food in the Church Street Park.

Councilwoman Brenda Gilmore said the problem goes beyond arresting people for illegal activities such as urinating in public.

"There are no bathroom facilities for the homeless in the downtown area," Gilmore said, adding she plans to address that particular need with different Metro agencies, starting with the Metropolitan Transit Authority (MTA).

Capt. Andy Garrett, who heads Metro's downtown police precinct, said to his knowledge Metro police officers on and off duty are simply enforcing city laws without distinction.

"If any of my officers harass anybody, I need to know," Garrett said, adding without receiving reports of harassment, single incidences may continue.

As a next step, the commission wants to examine arrest warrants downtown to ensure homeless individuals are not targeted at an unusually high rate.

Nashville's homeless simply do not have many options regarding where they spend their days, according to Howard Allen, a former homeless and a co-founder of the Homeless Power Project.

"What we need is another day center because we only have one and that's it," Allen said, pointing to the Campus for Human Development off Eighth Avenue South, a nonprofit that combines several homeless services such as the Room at the Inn and the Guest House.

Many advocacy groups such as the Rescue Mission do not permit homeless on their premises when those individuals are intoxicated.

But Father Charles Strobel, who founded the Campus for Human Development, said the city needs to be careful not to create what he called a "homeless zone" because citizens have the right to be in public places.

However, business people, especially those in the area of Eighth Avenue South, where the Campus and the Metro Downtown Clinic for the Homeless are located, feel they are the ones being harassed by the homeless.

Sandra Estelle Larson, owner of Estelle's Antiques at 601 Eighth Ave. S., said she observes illegal activity including public drinking, selling drugs, public exposure, public urination, fights and littering on a daily basis, and security problems surrounding her retail business have been an issue for years. Larson said she has been talking to Metro and the Campus for years but to no avail.

Now businesses are in the process of re-activating the Eighth Avenue South Neighborhood Association, which encompasses the area from Broadway to Wedgewood Avenue. "It shouldn't be my job running around and monitoring this situation," Larson said. "We're asking so little. We're just asking these [homeless] agencies to monitor their own people."

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Wyoming Winds is published by the Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless
907 Logan Avenue
Cheyenne, WY 82001-5247
phone: 307-634-8499
fax: 307-634-9089
email: wch@vcn.com
Views expressed in this newsletter are not necessarily those of the Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless, its staff or board.

Editor for this issue: Virginia Sellner.
Copyrights revert back to the author upon publication.
WCH is a 501(c)(3) all volunteer non-profit agency depending upon the community for funding.
© 2005.
Articles from other papers are published with permission of the paper listed with the article.
**In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. section 107, this material is distributed without charge or profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving this type of information for non-profit research and educational purposes only.**

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