Street homeless went from a recent high of 98 in 2004, and decreased steadily to a low of 10 in 2010.
HOLYOKE - Homeless outreach volunteers Michael Gelineau, left, and John Badger are out before dawn on a Saturday morning scouting for hidden homeless.
Photo by Stephanie Barry
SPRINGFIELD – While the annual “point in time” homeless count can be something of a delicate process - with volunteers tip-toeing around abandoned buildings and crevices where street dwellers seek anonymity - Charlie Knight conducts it like he is shot from a cannon.
Homeless for many years himself, Knight, 68, can read every shadow, doorway and nuance in empty buildings at a glance.
“These boots were just worn last night. They’re drying out because they got wet,” said Knight, now an advocate for the homeless. He lives in a rooming house after years of living in his car and sleeping on park benches.
He was part of four teams of volunteers who made their way through downtown on Jan. 30 during a national street count initiative.
Volunteers across the country go out at the same time, on the same night each year to gauge numbers of unsheltered homeless. The information is ultimately shared among advocates for further outreach and funneled to the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. Last year, 16 were discovered in Springfield; this year the count was 14.
Knight said the number of people living on the street during the 1990s was easily around 200.
“Under the bridge; two here; four over there. Everyone knew where everyone lived,” he said, adding that his long stint with homelessness began when his family homestead in New Marlborough was overcome with mold and he came to Springfield looking for work that never materialized.
While the numbers of street dwellers have plummeted since tent cities in Springfield closed up in 2005, numbers in local shelters continue to go up. William J. Miller, director of Friends of the Homeless, the largest open bed shelter in the region, said he recently logged his highest overnight census - 190.
Street homeless went from a recent high of 98 in 2004, and decreased steadily to a low of 10 in 2010. According to U.S. Census statistics from that year, however, Massachusetts had the eighth highest numbers of homeless in the nation.
Large numbers in big shelters are part of the spectrum of reasons that drive some to sleep in public places, advocates say.
Case in point: During the Jan. 30 homeless count, after charging up several flights of stairs in a downtown parking garage and leaving younger men behind, Knight quickly made his way back down.
“Found two, Dave!” he exclaimed to David Havens, a case worker and shelter manager for the Mental Health Association on Worthington Street who organizes teams and routes for the annual count.
Havens made his way up the stairs and made gentle overtures to two men tucked away in a stairwell on the top floor. Heat rises, Knight whispered, and no one parks on the upper floors late at night. It was a spot he would have chosen.
Havens explained why the group was interested in their whereabouts, and asked if the men could be coaxed inside for the night. While one was fast asleep through the whole interview, his companion said they were content for the night. They had been displaced from a Taylor Street shelter by the Nov. 23 gas explosion that crippled many downtown buildings.
“It’s too crowded at the Worthington Street shelter,” the man, clad in a hat and tucked into a red sleeping bag, explained.
Some, they find, are fiercely independent and prefer the freedom of the streets. Most struggle with mental illness and substance abuse, or both. National statistics indicate street homeless, on average, live to be 47.
Havens added the annual count is only the beginning of a process to identify people and get them housing and other services. After sharing the information they find during the street count, a citywide team will discuss strategies to provide the unsheltered with needed services. Those include shelter first and foremost, medical and mental health care, in many cases, subject abuse treatment and other supports.
“There’s a lot more cooperation these days and attempts to bring the community together to puzzle out how to use the scant resources we have,” Havens said, adding that the national “Housing First” push has diverted the lion’s share of homeless resources to getting people into permanent housing.
Some advocates say while the “housing first” model is ideal, it takes funding away from other agencies including shelters. Miller notes that Havens’ program has a few slots that provide lifelong housing and support for the most vulnerable – including those living outside and with serious mental health diagnoses.
The state has also been pouring more funding into getting families out of shelters and motels and into permanent housing; all admirable efforts, but not without gaps.
William J. Miller, executive director of Friends of the Homeless, said his shelter logged record high numbers last month.
Republican file photo
“It may be the ‘best’ way but it is incredibly expensive for taxpayers, and not a realistic solution for the vast majority. There will never be enough subsidized housing and support services. We see 1,200 individuals annually,” Miller said. “’Housing First’ is the national model but we just can’t afford it for everyone. So, the occasional lifeboat is floated. Whoever is lucky enough to catch on, grabs it. The rest are consigned to the warehouse or the streets.”
Havens said outreach that entails regularly combing the streets for the unsheltered has dwindled to nearly nothing.
That’s why freelance volunteers like John Badger and Michael Gelineau are critically important to the small numbers who remain on the streets.
Badger has a long history of street outreach in Hartford, and has an eye similar to Knight’s. While some inner city havens for the homeless may be invisible to most, Badger has a way of sniffing them out.
“You develop a different way of looking at the city. I don’t look at woods, I look through them. If I’m looking under a bridge, I don’t look down, I look up,” Badger said, adding the support beams under a bridge can be homes for a small family.
Badger and Gelineau, of Holyoke, have been trolling the streets of that city before dawn many mornings for months. Gelineau, a social worker, knew of Badger’s work in Hartford and wanted some mentoring from the older man.
“We were driving around and around the streets of Holyoke, and I was going: where are they, man?” and then I said to Michael: pull over,” Badger recounted.
There, barely noticeable, was an interruption in the sidewalk along an industrial stretch by the city’s canals. A subtle piece of cardboard was propped strategically over a hole in the cement. Upon further investigation, the men found a hole with a mattress and a makeshift home inside. After returning in the subsequent days, they carefully called out to its resident.
“Sometimes we say we’re from a church. We say we’re not cops; we just want to help you. A lot of times, at first, they won’t even come out. They’ll just say nah, man I’m all set. The last thing these people want is to be discovered and pushed out of their homes,” Badger said.
In the days that followed, they learned the urban hobbit’s name was “Eddie.” They left him a heavy sleeping bag; a warm coat, lunches; gloves; and a hat.
Eventually, “Eddie” agreed to an interview with the two men and a reporter.
Edmund Santiago, 49, said he had been living in “his cave” for about a year. He had lived in a steel construction cylinder for two years before that, until the site was cleaned up by the city. Santiago had a job and a roommate before that. Then he lost the job, and was out on the streets.
“My mentor, Nelson, he taught me to live on the streets,” Santiago said.
His first advice: stay out of the wind. His second: stay out of sight.
HOLYOKE - Edmund Santiago, 49, has made this hole underneath a sidewalk in an industrial area in Holyoke home for over a year.
Photo by Stephanie Barry
To that end, he rises before dawn and usually returns by nightfall. He concedes he is a chronic drinker and it has periodically interfered. But, he is practical and picks up odd jobs throughout the days when he cans, such as running errands. He also takes great pains to stay out of trouble and out of the way of police. Santiago said people are largely kind to him.
He said he would prefer an apartment but is not inclined to go to a shelter.
“I don’t know how to say … I don’t want to be controlled. I don’t want someone to tell me when to come in, when I can go out, when to sleep, when to eat,” Santiago said.
Badger said they will continue to reach out to Santiago and hope he can help them find others living on the streets.
“You won’t find a better network than that,” Badger said.