Saturday, January 27, 2007
A homeless survey is underway throughout the state of Florida. Here is a report from central Florida:
More than 60 agencies are asking questions in 3 counties with the hope they will get an accurate count.
Waiting in line for his noontime meal Friday, Larry Allen agreed to tell how and why he ended up homeless.
The 50-year-old laborer was among more than 1,000 homeless people across Orange, Osceola and Seminole counties interviewed by volunteers in the first homeless census in three years.
The headcount helps determine how much federal cash will flow to Central Florida to tackle the problem. The survey identifies what help -- beyond shelter -- the homeless need.
A similar tally, minus the questionnaire, was done in Volusia earlier in the week. The main goal is to get a fresh idea of the number of the homeless, which at last count was about 9,000 across the region.
This time, the homeless and advocates both predict the same results: an increase in homeless families and homeless who work, and not enough emergency beds, much less enough for people who want detox or mental-health care.
"I've been hoping to find a place so I can get over this and get on with my life," said Allen, who wants out after six months of living in the woods and the occasional shelter.
Allen's story is familiar to those who work with the homeless.
Allen said he has always worked, but he started drinking too much. He tried to dry out on his own but said alcohol seems to surround him.
Thursday night, when temperatures dipped near freezing, Allen said he drank too much again. It kept him warm as he slept outside a downtown building but kept him from getting to work on time Friday morning.
"I know I can quit, if I just get a little time away. There just isn't a place for me to go," he said.
Orlando is home to a handful of large shelters with programs in job training, life skills and how to stay straight once an addiction is kicked.
With the jump in the numbers of working poor and needy single women with children, some facilities also have playgrounds, day care and Headstart pre-school on site.
But only the Men's Pavilion at the Coalition for the Homeless of Central Florida accepts people who are intoxicated. And they can be booted if they cause trouble.
"Any addiction or mental illness, those people don't have anywhere to go," said Don Moody, who heads the Orlando Union Rescue Mission.
The mission's men's shelter used to take in those clearly under the influence. After too much commotion and anxiety, it began screening.
Now, the 120-bed men's center includes 50 set aside for those living there longer term and going through education training and 12-step recovery.
Those will be the easy people to find, log into the census and approach with the questionnaire.
The more invisible homeless -- who stay in the woods or camps or blend into the downtown landscape -- simply will be counted.
A medical-outreach team that works in the three-county metro area has been recording numbers of those homeless all week. Police in downtown Orlando, Kissimmee, Sanford and St. Cloud will report Thursday and Friday night counts in their cities on those overnights, said Cathy Jackson, director of the Homeless Service Network of Central Florida.
In Volusia County, this year's count of the homeless was taken Sunday and Monday. That's earlier than other counties, because with thousands of fans in town for a 24-hour race at Daytona International Speedway, advocates said they would have a hard time figuring out who was homeless.
"When you have visitors carrying around blankets and backpacks, how do we know if they are going to the race or if they are homeless?" said Lindsay Roberts, executive director of the Volusia-Flagler Coalition for the Homeless.
Past counts have been unclear. Anywhere between 2,600 and 3,000 homeless have been estimated to live in Volusia and Flagler counties.
Advocates routinely say that about 7,000 homeless live in the metro area, but some agencies claim it is closer to 5,000.
Results of this year's tally, scheduled to be released in March, should include a more firm number.
And with federal money going to communities based on successful programs, not just total numbers, the total will be less important than the details about who the homeless are and what works in helping them.
"The main reason for doing this is to keep the issue on the public agenda," said James Wright, the University of Central Florida professor who will analyze the data. "This issue is not going away."
Neither is Allen. As he talked with an interviewer and reporter, his eyes drifted to construction at a nearby lot.
A backhoe scooped up mounds of dirt, while men in hard hats graded the slope down to a retention pond. Working on heavy machinery, Allen said, was how he had always made a living.
Seeing the work being done all over town reminded him how far he had fallen, working day-labor jobs when he could.
"I look at it every day," he said. "I didn't lose my skills, but I lost my ability to hang in there. I just need a place to go, and I will win this war."
April Hunt
Sentinel Staff Writer
January 27, 2007
More than 60 agencies are asking questions in 3 counties with the hope they will get an accurate count.
Waiting in line for his noontime meal Friday, Larry Allen agreed to tell how and why he ended up homeless.
The 50-year-old laborer was among more than 1,000 homeless people across Orange, Osceola and Seminole counties interviewed by volunteers in the first homeless census in three years.
The headcount helps determine how much federal cash will flow to Central Florida to tackle the problem. The survey identifies what help -- beyond shelter -- the homeless need.
A similar tally, minus the questionnaire, was done in Volusia earlier in the week. The main goal is to get a fresh idea of the number of the homeless, which at last count was about 9,000 across the region.
This time, the homeless and advocates both predict the same results: an increase in homeless families and homeless who work, and not enough emergency beds, much less enough for people who want detox or mental-health care.
"I've been hoping to find a place so I can get over this and get on with my life," said Allen, who wants out after six months of living in the woods and the occasional shelter.
Allen's story is familiar to those who work with the homeless.
Allen said he has always worked, but he started drinking too much. He tried to dry out on his own but said alcohol seems to surround him.
Thursday night, when temperatures dipped near freezing, Allen said he drank too much again. It kept him warm as he slept outside a downtown building but kept him from getting to work on time Friday morning.
"I know I can quit, if I just get a little time away. There just isn't a place for me to go," he said.
Orlando is home to a handful of large shelters with programs in job training, life skills and how to stay straight once an addiction is kicked.
With the jump in the numbers of working poor and needy single women with children, some facilities also have playgrounds, day care and Headstart pre-school on site.
But only the Men's Pavilion at the Coalition for the Homeless of Central Florida accepts people who are intoxicated. And they can be booted if they cause trouble.
"Any addiction or mental illness, those people don't have anywhere to go," said Don Moody, who heads the Orlando Union Rescue Mission.
The mission's men's shelter used to take in those clearly under the influence. After too much commotion and anxiety, it began screening.
Now, the 120-bed men's center includes 50 set aside for those living there longer term and going through education training and 12-step recovery.
Those will be the easy people to find, log into the census and approach with the questionnaire.
The more invisible homeless -- who stay in the woods or camps or blend into the downtown landscape -- simply will be counted.
A medical-outreach team that works in the three-county metro area has been recording numbers of those homeless all week. Police in downtown Orlando, Kissimmee, Sanford and St. Cloud will report Thursday and Friday night counts in their cities on those overnights, said Cathy Jackson, director of the Homeless Service Network of Central Florida.
In Volusia County, this year's count of the homeless was taken Sunday and Monday. That's earlier than other counties, because with thousands of fans in town for a 24-hour race at Daytona International Speedway, advocates said they would have a hard time figuring out who was homeless.
"When you have visitors carrying around blankets and backpacks, how do we know if they are going to the race or if they are homeless?" said Lindsay Roberts, executive director of the Volusia-Flagler Coalition for the Homeless.
Past counts have been unclear. Anywhere between 2,600 and 3,000 homeless have been estimated to live in Volusia and Flagler counties.
Advocates routinely say that about 7,000 homeless live in the metro area, but some agencies claim it is closer to 5,000.
Results of this year's tally, scheduled to be released in March, should include a more firm number.
And with federal money going to communities based on successful programs, not just total numbers, the total will be less important than the details about who the homeless are and what works in helping them.
"The main reason for doing this is to keep the issue on the public agenda," said James Wright, the University of Central Florida professor who will analyze the data. "This issue is not going away."
Neither is Allen. As he talked with an interviewer and reporter, his eyes drifted to construction at a nearby lot.
A backhoe scooped up mounds of dirt, while men in hard hats graded the slope down to a retention pond. Working on heavy machinery, Allen said, was how he had always made a living.
Seeing the work being done all over town reminded him how far he had fallen, working day-labor jobs when he could.
"I look at it every day," he said. "I didn't lose my skills, but I lost my ability to hang in there. I just need a place to go, and I will win this war."
April Hunt
Sentinel Staff Writer
January 27, 2007
