Cleaned Out or Cleared Out, What It Means When a Homeless Camp Goes Down

“Hey thanks, guys. Good to get the litter cleaned up and the bins emptied.” That’s not the usual. More likely is “was it really all that necessary to burn down my tent?”

It’s embarrassing to have all this going on in America, the richest country in the world, the home of the free and the brave

Free enough to live under bridges and brave enough to winter in Pittsburgh. Let me tell you a story about a guy named Sam Tsemberis. I’ve gotta locate Sam first and I catch up with him in 2003 (yeah, 20 years ago) on the floor of a Las Vegas banquet hall populated by droves of suits, all of whom are trying to come up with a solution for Utah and none of whom are homeless.

Chronic homeless in Utah had surged since the early 1970s. People who had lost their jobs, health insurance or gotten divorced, after three months on a friend’s couch, were on the street. Some were kicked out of mental-health centers. No one had taught them in grade school, high school or university how to thrive as a camper and it was no help that the cops kept busting things up. Being homeless costs the state more than a year at Harvard, can you believe it? So, as officials spit-balled ideas, Sam stood up to deliver a solution. Sam was from NYCity, what could he possibly tell a bunch of honest guys from Utah?

“Give the homeless houses…”

No shit, that’s what he told them and, at least, he got their attention. Conversations stopped, toes of shoes were examined and wrist-watches checked to see when the next strip-show began. Sam’s NYC research showed this wouldn’t just dramatically cut the number of chronically homeless on the streets, it would also slash spending in the long run.

In the audience sat Lloyd Pendleton, a Utah businessman who had just taken over the Utah Housing Task Force and he was intrigued. He came over to Sam and said, “I finally just heard something that makes sense to me. Would you be willing to come to Utah and work with us?”

That conversation spawned what has been perhaps the nation’s most successful — and radical — program to end chronic homelessness

Now just so you don’t get the idea this is the latest of god-knows how many failed processes, realize that the Washington Post article from which I draw my fascinating insights was written eight years ago. And their collaboration got off the ground ten years before the article appeared. The work Lloyd and Sam accomplished has been tested over time. It has a history of success.

Today, explains Gordon Walker, the director of the Utah Housing and Community Development Division, the state is “approaching a functional zero.” So far as I know, it is the only state to do so and why California and Texas are not burning a path to Walker’s office is beyond my understanding or pay-grade to comment upon.

But that’s only the result. It’s the ‘story’ that needs to be heard

(WaPo) How Utah accomplished this didn’t require complex theorems or statistical models. But it did require the suspension of what had been conventional wisdom. For years, the thought of simply giving the homeless homes seemed absurd, constituting the height of government waste. Many chronically homeless, after all, are victims of severe trauma and significant mental health and addiction issues. Many more have spent thousands of nights on the streets and are no longer familiar with home-living. Who, in their right mind, would willingly give such folk brand new houses without any proof of marked improvement?

But that’s exactly what Utah did. “If you want to end homelessness, you put people in housing,” Walker said in an interview. “This is relatively simple.”

The nuts and bolts:

First the state identified the homeless that experts would consider chronically homeless. That designation means they have a disabling condition and have been homeless for longer than a year, or four different times in the last three years. Among the many subgroups of the homeless community — such as homeless families or homeless children — the chronically homeless are both the most difficult to reabsorb into society and use the most public resources. They wind up in jail more often. They’re hospitalized more often. And they frequent shelters the most. In all, before instituting Housing First, Utah was spending on average $20,000 on each chronically homeless person. (Half the cost of Harvard, we’re gaining ground).

So, to in part cut those costs — but also to “save lives,” Walker said — the state started setting up each chronically homeless person with his or her own house. Then it got them counseling to help with their demons. Such services, the thinking went, would afford them with safety and security that experts say is necessary to re-acclimate to modern life. Homelessness is stressful. It’s nearly impossible, most experts agree, to get off drugs or battle mental illness while undergoing such travails.

So in 2004, as part of trial run, the state housed 17 people throughout Salt Lake City

Then they checked back a year later. Fourteen were still in their homes. Three were dead. The success rate had topped 80 percent, which to Walker “sounded pretty good.”

It’s now years later. And these days, Walker says the state saves $8,000 per homeless person in annual expenses. “We’ve saved millions on this,” Walker said, though the state hasn’t tallied the exact amount. He conceded, however, that “it’s not that simple” everywhere.

Like in the District, home to soaring rent prices and inhabited by 1,785 chronically homeless people. The city has dabbled in this program, which it calls permanent supportive housing, since 2008. And in the first three years, the District added more than 1,200 new units. In 2010 alone, nearly 600 were built. But since, that number has plummeted.

But according to Walker, a self-described fiscal conservative, inconsistency can kill something like Housing First. “We used the Housing First model, but we haven’t deviated from our focus.” he said. “When we started it back in ’04 and ‘o5, we didn’t know this would end, but we committed to it.”

And now, the chronic homeless are no longer tallied in numbers. They’re tallied by name

The last few are awaiting their houses.

Lloyd Pendleton will talk to you on TED talks. Please take the time to hear him, it’s the beginning of everything.