Help for the homeles

Innovative program helping mentally ill

by Dawn Hinshaw - The State

When Jeremy McCleery took a job 1 1/2 years ago doing outreach at the Homeless Recovery Center, his mission was to help Tony.

Among the hundreds of anonymous homeless people who wander Columbia's streets, Tony was different.

A slight Vietnamese man with a broad brown face, Tony slumbered on benches along Devine Street or walked the streets downtown with his clothes bundled under his shirt, his long matted hair stuffed into a stocking cap.

Many people came to recognize Tony during his 15 years on the streets, but no one knew him.

He was calm and silent, never asking for anything, often refusing the money or food that well-meaning people held out to him, saying, "I'm OK, I'm OK."

Because of his silence, stories grew up around Tony -- legends, really -- that he was royalty, that he fled his homeland in fear for his life. As a social work student at USC, McCleery saw Tony around town and wondered about him, too.

"He'd been around for so long, and no one had helped him," he said. "Our program was made for people like Tony."

Tony is part of a small group within the homeless population, McCleery said -- the severely mentally ill, who might wander for years without help because they don't seek help; people without a story because they don't tell their story.

But with the help of the Mental Illness Recovery Center Inc., Tony is on medication and no longer homeless.

In a world where success is measured not in complete transformation but in small moves toward stability, Tony reached a milestone Feb. 13.

He told an interpreter the medication he's taking helps him think clearly and that he likes his new apartment.

The next day, nurse manager Liz Green sent out a jubilant e-mail under the subject line: GOOD NEWS.

For the first time, Tony was able to communicate to his caregivers what they'd been hoping to hear. "I'm feeling better."

FINDING A WAY HOME

McCleery is a 29-year-old Air Force veteran whose job at the Homeless Recovery Center takes him into shelters, city parks and soup kitchens, seeking out the people who most others try to avoid.

He has helped in guiding 62 people to the center on Gregg Street, near Hampton Street. They can shower; wash their clothes; and get information about housing, medical care and counseling.

The center is the newest program of MIRCI, pronounced "mercy." It opened in November 2005 to serve mentally ill people who live on the streets. The idea is to get them stable enough to decide how they want to live.

MIRCI's housing-oriented treatment programs, which cost $1.4 million a year, are funded by the state and federal governments, along with the United Way. Last year, MIRCI helped 118 mentally ill adults and their 34 children find homes.

"Most people don't choose to be homeless, that's the reality," McCleery said over a cup of coffee last week.

"When you become homeless, it's like a black hole. If you don't have family or friends, you're just screwed, right."

In November, after months of watching and talking with Tony, McCleery went to a probate judge to have him taken into custody. The judge signed an order for police to pick him up.

McCleery went with Tony to a clinic, then a hospital, for testing.

Through it all, he was cooperative and calm, McCleery said. "It was hard to tell how much English he understood and how much he could speak."

Tony was hospitalized at a private psychiatric hospital, Richland Springs, for a little more than two weeks, emerging into a city made more clear by a low-dose injection of the anti-psychotic drug Risperdal every two weeks.

'NOW, HE LOOKS AT ME'

Tony still doesn't talk much -- he answers questions with "yes" or "no" or "it's OK" -- and rarely initiates conversation.

Still, those helping Tony have learned a little about him and have seen some changes, too.

His full name is Tong Nguyen, and he came to Columbia 22 years ago through a United Way refugee program. He said he was accompanied by an older brother. But with a common Vietnamese name and a faulty memory, it's been difficult to trace his past.

He gave a birth date that would make him 49 years old.

Interpreter Lan Lebozec, who has met with Tony on four occasions, said he's begun to speak more freely.

"Now, he looks at me in the eyes, too, which is very different," she said. "That shows some adaptability to this culture. In Vietnam, you don't look at the person." Each morning, Tony puts onclothes suitable to the weather. His hair has been cut into a bushy crew cut interspersed with strands of gray.

During the day, he might be found watching "Bonanza" at the recovery center or sitting in on a group therapy session.

He lives with two other men in a small apartment with white walls and beige carpet. There is basic furniture, no clutter and nothing on the walls.

Someone comes by to check on them each night and on weekends takes them grocery shopping or to a restaurant.

One afternoon last week, Tony was in the kitchen, sipping Ramen noodles from a plastic cup. The cabinet top was bare except for containers of mustard and mayonnaise, which he acknowledged that he sometimes eats on the noodles.

"It's hard to tell why he's so withdrawn," said Green, the nurse manager. "We don't know."

IT'S HARD TO CHANGE

The transition to a more traditional lifestyle can be difficult for people like Tony who've spent years on the street, Green said.

Often, they maintain old rituals that have become comfortable.

She's had clients who prefer to eat out of a can, sleep in their clothes or even slip outside at night to sleep on the ground.

So Green is not surprised that Tony still wanders.

On four occasions, he's disappeared from his apartment for a day or two, leaving his key behind as if he were gone for good. Each time, he returned on his own.

If he hadn't, that would have been the end of it, because the idea is to provide health and stability, McCleery said, not enforce a way of life.

Still, the numbers are encouraging.

Of 36 adults served at the Homeless Recovery Center today, 79 percent are in housing -- and more than half have stayed for at least six months, agency officials said.

Part of their recovery involves working on personal skills, such as cooking, cleaning and budgeting. Green said just about all of them comply with their treatment plan and take their medications without complaint.

Daily care through the recovery center costs an estimated $33, compared with $373 for hospitalization in a state facility and $600 for private care, the agency reports.

ALLIES ON THE WAY

While the treatment Tony is receiving is usually private, MIRCI director Julie Ann Avin said she wanted to share Tony's story of hope and change because everybody seems to know him. Tony agreed.

George Carr, who's done some counseling at the Oliver Gospel Mission, was just glad to hear he's OK.

A security guard who ministers to homeless people, Carr was worried when he stopped seeing Tony in the fall.

He said Tony stood out from other homeless people because he was always alone and was hesitant to accept help.

"You have some street people come up to you, say, 'Hey, man. Gotta dollar? I'm hungry, how about buying me a burger?' But Tony was never like that.

"Tony wouldn't even speak to you. You'd have to walk up to him, sit on the bench with him.

"I felt comfortable to slip Tony a 20 every now and then because you know he wasn't going to spend it on drugs or alcohol; it's just basically for food."

Proctor and Martha Davis, who have a business along Devine Street, developed a bond with Tony over the years, too.

Sometimes they'd just wave as he passed, give him a sweatshirt when it was cold or offer him a few dollars.

"I give him a little bit here and there, and sometimes he won't take it," Martha Davis said.

Proctor Davis had heard that Tony recently cut his hair.

"People who don't know him, he scares them," he said, "but he's harmless. He's been here for years."

Green said she suspects there are many people in Columbia like George Carr and the Davises, people who look out for Tony.

McCleery said Tony -- whom he calls "peaceful" and "gentle" -- has come to understand that people genuinely care about him.

On Friday afternoon, Tony played the tambourine.

"It seems like he has new life and new hope," McCleery said. "He's coming more alive."

Reach Hinshaw at (803) 771-8641.

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HOW YOU CAN HELP

To help the Homeless Recovery Center -- which needs personal items for clients and their apartments as well as supplies and financial support for its day center -- call (803) 786-1844. The center is at 3809 Rosewood Drive, Columbia, SC 29205.

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