Feature
Daarmstadt Homeless Shelter
by Susan Piperato
Photos by Roy Gumpel

It's September 10, just past noon, and two young families are finishing breakfast at Family of Woodstock's Darmstadt Homeless Shelter on Thomas Street at the corner of Fashion Lane in Kingston's industrial center, near the railroad tracks. The newly renovated facility opened last April following two years of negotiations between Family, local businesses, area residents, and the city of Kingston's zoning board. The shelter is everything a prospective homebuyer or tenant would want: Its walls are still fresh with white paint and hung with original paintings; the furniture and trim are made of natural wood; its many windows admit an abundance of natural light; its kitchen and laundry room are well-appointed; and there are air conditioners in each room.
In the shelter's dining area, Darmstadt's director, Liz Hogan, maintains a quiet, steady presence. The two families—two single mothers and their collective three children—are seated at the shelter's indoor picnic table, which is strewn with paper plates containing remnants of toaster waffles. On the condition that I do not ask their names, the two young women have consented to talk to me.

The older of the two moms—I'll call her Jamie—is 23. She's just come out of the shower and is wearing a white towel wrapped around her head from which a few long, straight strands of still-wet red hair have escaped. She is tiny and pale, with angular features. She wears gold wire-frame glasses, a pair of huge gold hoop earrings that brush against her shoulders, and a silver star on a chain. Jamie has a shy, blonde four-year-old boy and a biracial baby with a dark complexion and glorious red curls, whose gender I can't discern. She is smart, which I realize before she tells me "I'm not stupid," and she talks fast. She has no contact with her own family because, she says, their expectations of her are unrealistic. "If I were a millionaire, I still wouldn't be doing the right thing [in their eyes]," she says. She wants to be a journalist. "I'm here because of a man," she says with a shrug. "He left us, and now he lives in a condo. I know I took some wrong steps, but all I want to do is write. I know I can." Fleetingly, my own writer's heart quickens.

The other single mom—I'll call her Andrea—is almost 22, and Jamie's physical opposite: she's got a wide, moon-shaped face, a solid build, big, dark, earnest eyes, and olive skin. She may be Hispanic or Latino or maybe Italian. She wears her dark, wavy hair in a tight ponytail. Her two-year-old daughter is biracial and keeps jumping off the bench and climbing back up to hug her mother. She wants to become "a social worker, a teacher, anything—I know I'm good with kids," she says, with pleading in her voice. She was living in Florida before a friend convinced her to move north where there were supposedly more jobs.
"I'm here because I believed her," Andrea says. Like Jamie, she doesn't talk to anyone in her family either—a common phenomenon among the homeless, Hogan said—except for her mother, who lives in the Bronx. Andrea's mother has also faced homelessness-and conquered it. She went from collecting welfare to working at a rent-a-car office. "Nobody wants anything to do with me except my mom," Andrea tells me. "She's my mentor; she's making good money." But she doesn't want to move in with her mother because "the Bronx is not a good place to raise a child." Besides, she says, "It's rough, but I really want to make it on my own. My mom is pushing me to do that."

The shelter's dining area window looks out on a woodchip-carpeted playground filled with bright plastic children's play sets backed by a tall wooden fence. It's an overcast day, with a sky so heavy it looks like November. Just enough pale, vague light seeps through the window onto the table to illuminate the sticky patches from the children's syrupy hands. The kids are squirmy. "I don't know what's gotten into her today," Andrea says. "She woke up in this mood." If I didn't know anything about these young women, and I happened to look in this window, I'd assume they were college students—and that they were babysitting. They have none of the stereotypical qualities associated with the homeless: no sense of resignation, no depression, no squalor, no lack of confidence, and certainly no lack of ambition. They're intelligent and believe that they have something to offer the world and their kids—they just need to get back on track. But first they need to overcome this little housing problem that's gotten in the way.

According to Michael Berg, Family's executive director, there are approximately 45 homeless families in Ulster County, including around 70 children, and about 70 of the county's homeless people are now being put up in area motels. He isn't sure how many single people are homeless right now, but he is careful to point out that the numbers of homeless families and individuals change on a daily basis. Darmstadt Shelter is the only facility for families in Ulster County. It has four ample-sized bedrooms containing 16 beds, along with three cribs, and Berg said the place has been full since it opened.

"We take in people as soon as we clear a bedroom," he said, "with the bulk of homeless people going to motels and boarding homes [through the Ulster County Department of Social Services (DSS)]. We try to serve people with great needs, or with special needs, or people who we really think we can help." Darmstadt also takes single individuals in recovery programs for alcohol or substance abuse, but Berg said the policy is never to place single individuals in the same room as a family. Even if a family only needs three beds out of the four in their room, the fourth bed will remain empty in order to preserve the family's privacy and some semblance of "normal" life. Single mothers and their children are encouraged to buddy-up and share a room, which is what Jamie and Andrea are doing, in order to free up other rooms.

Berg said Family has been dealing with Ulster County's homeless situation since its founding in the early 1970s. The organization also operates three other facilities in Kingston: Midway, a supervised-living program for homeless adolescents; Family House, a 14-bed facility for runaways and homeless youths; and Family Shelter, which offers 17 beds for women and children who are victims of domestic violence.

Darmstadt Shelter first opened on Christmas Eve, 1985, in the basement of Kingston's Trinity United Methodist Church, the result of a sponsorship agreement between Family of Woodstock, United Methodist Church, and Kingston Council of Churches. The shelter was opened with funding from the NYS DSS Homeless Housing Assistance Project. As soon as Darmstadt opened, Berg said, it filled immediately and stayed full, serving more than 6,600 people for more than 60,000 nights, until 1999, when Family received notice of the United Methodist Church's intent to sell Trinity to another congregation. Family estimates that 77 percent of the original Darmstadt residents were either Ulster County residents or had ties to the county; more than 50 percent came from the city of Kingston.

"It was the primary residence for singles and families," Berg said, "and for the first few years, we filled 18 of the 19 beds per night. This trailed off in the early '90s, largely due to changes in the welfare laws that made it more cost-effective to refer single people to boarding facilities." In 2000, Family began searching for a new shelter location; finally, in 2001, Darmstadt Shelter was forced to close, leaving the local homeless population in jeopardy. Family opened temporary offices at King's Inn motel in Kingston, providing emergency shelter funded by Ulster's DSS. Meanwhile, Family initiated a $1,250,000 campaign for a new shelter, which led to the purchase of a lot with two existing buildings at the corner of Thomas and Fashion Streets in 2001.

And, it all happened in good time. According to Berg, the number of homeless people is picking up again, and this time "the need is tremendous." What he finds most disturbing about the current situation is the fact that even working people are showing up at the shelter because "there really is no housing." Rising local real estate prices are driving up rental rates and forcing people in between rentals to leave the area¾or go to a shelter. Last February, Berg said, the average emergency shelter stay in Kingston was 22 days. Now, at Darmstadt, the average stay is 75 to 90 days, and the number of people seeking shelter has tripled.

"What this reflects is that it's not just disabled people or people with problems who are homeless anymore," Berg explained. "There's not affordable family housing in this area, and there hasn't been any affordable housing built in the past 15 years. It's been a landlord's market—rates have ballooned, rentals have gone up at least $200 a month. As a result, if your car breaks down, or you get sick or injured and have no health insurance, and you're working an entry-level job, then you don't have rent money that month."

In Ulster County, there is currently a 1.7 percent rental housing vacancy rate, which is alarmingly low, according to Berg. A rate of five percent is considered healthy. "There are actually working people without somewhere to live. There really is no housing to go to. The system stops and stagnates. Landlords can raise the rent and get any number of people to pay it. It's virtually impossible with an entry position, even with charities helping, to pay current rents. Once you lose a house, you're competing with 40 or 50 other people for one or two apartments. Every time an ad for a place shows up in the paper, everybody calls."

Andrea can attest to all of that. After moving to the Hudson Valley, she got a job at a Dunkin' Donuts, but eventually gave it up because she could not afford childcare. Recently, she has been house-hunting as a Section 8 applicant—Section 8 is the government program which subsidizes housing for low income families-a feat in itself since, according to Berg, the waiting list is close to a year long. "Even if you have security money, they look at you like you're nothing," she said. "They're dismissive. Or they want you to pay more if you have kids. Or they don't want people with kids. I'm not trying to cheat the system at all; I just want a decent place for my child to grow up."

"A lot of people don't understand homelessness; they forget that all kinds of things can cause it besides not paying the rent," Hogan explained.

As we talk, I notice the large-screen TV hanging in the living room area, hospital style. CNN is on. Beneath the commentators' heads, news alerts stream across, from right to left: "Code Orange Alert." The commentators' voices are barely audible. I'm glad. But Jamie and Andrea are too busy with their kids to notice. How much could 9/11 have to do with their difficult lives?

A lot, according to Berg: Homeless numbers have increased significantly since 9/11. "It really helped push a downturn in the economy—there are less jobs around, and they're not paying well," he said. "It's basically caused a depression, a state of mourning for a time that simply doesn't exist anymore. For those who can't do anything about their lives, it really hurts. It's a sad thing, and it needs to be acknowledged as having an impact on the whole community's psyche. The terrorists' desired impact on our society has occurred. We're not as comfortable, confident, or secure as we were."

Although Andrea and Jamie are quick to agree that "homelessness is a killer on your self-esteem," as Andrea puts it, neither of them has given up on making it in life. They each have a plan. Andrea's is to start to complete her GED while at the shelter and then apply to college to study education or social work. In January, Jamie will begin the PASE (Partnership for After School Education) program, doing work experience at the DSS Home Environment Assistance Department and attending Ulster County Community College full-time. "I'll get an apartment, food stamps, cash, and daycare while I go to college," she said. "I'm glad to have a program like this, because they don't tell everyone about it."

Darmstadt Shelter may never have existed had the Kingston zoning board been able to act upon its initial negative reaction to Family's proposal to acquire and renovate the Thomas Street building. Although the zoning laws called for emergency shelters in residential neighborhoods, "the board just didn't support us," Berg said, "even though we'd been in residential neighborhoods for 15 years with very positive relationships—in fact, nobody even knew the women's shelter was there [at a Kingston address that remains undisclosed for safety reasons]." The need for the shelter was never an issue, Hogan and Berg agreed; the question was where to locate it. "There was some concern as to whether it had to be in Kingston, but the mayor [the late T.R. Gallo] supported us from the beginning," Berg said. "He recognized that the majority of homeless in Ulster County are in Kingston. But he thought he could find another location than Thomas Street." Opposition also came from local residents and the business community. "It was fear," said Hogan. "People supported it, but didn't want it in their neighborhood."

Family spent approximately two years negotiating Darmstadt's location with the various opposition groups. A 13-member committee was formed to review 60 sites. The former estate of the original editor of the Kingston Freeman, located on East Chestnut Street off Broadway and owned by New York state, was selected, and Family paid a non-refundable binder as well as invested in architectural plans. However, Berg said, "at the last hour the corporate council determined the zoning board couldn't give us the ordinances we needed." In the end, at a meeting with the various members of Kingston's shelter committee and religious community, Mayor Gallo announced his support for the Thomas Street location. "I'll never forget it," Berg recalled. "He said, 'I was late in coming, but I'm sorry. I'm here now. I was wrong. The shelter will go to Thomas Street.'" The zoning ordinances were revised, and "we got the variances we needed," Berg said. He likes the Thomas Street location because of its "isolation" from residents-it looks out onto the backs of neighboring, mostly industrial buildings-and its proximity to all of Kingston's forms of public transportation.

Now Family plans to renovate the adjacent Rugden Street building and shed, starting in November, in order to create a shelter complex capable of housing 31 people, including singles and families. The completed facility will open next June. Berg hopes to house families only in the Thomas Street building and open the Rugden Street building to single people. He also wants to establish a dining room for both buildings' residents. The third phase of the renovation calls for applying stucco to the buildings' exteriors, installing central air conditioning, putting a peaked roof on the Thomas Street building, and landscaping¾including extending the playground area and adding a basketball court and terrace with benches.

Although the city of Kingston did not receive the HUD grant it applied for on behalf of Darmstadt Shelter, the project is going ahead with a grant of $841,000 from the New York State Office of Temporary and Disabled Assistance, and the city of Kingston is looking into reapplying for HUD funds. Family of Woodstock plans to fundraise to obtain the funds needed for "attention to the outside," Berg said. "Otherwise, we'd have to wait another year, with no beds in Ulster County." The first fundraising effort takes place on October 4 and 5, from 9AM to 5PM, with a yard sale to be held at the shelter. "We're getting rid of our surplus stuff," Berg said. Donations are being accepted for furniture, tools, and household goods¾no clothes, please. For more information, and directions, contact Darmstadt Shelter directly at 331-1395.

DID YOU KNOW?
The number of homeless people is proportionate to Ulster County in Dutchess County, according to figures released by Hudson River Housing, Inc. of Poughkeepsie. The organization operates several programs and facilities in Dutchess County: Family Self-Sufficiency, a program designed to enable families utilizing Section 8 certificates from the county's DSS to achieve independence by living in fully-funded commercial rentals and receiving education, job training, and counseling; Maximize, the provision of permanent housing to homeless families at 12 apartments owned by the city of Poughkeepsie; Home Club, a six-month program designed to help low-income and homeless people purchase their first home; Shelter Plus Care, a supported housing program providing 10 units of permanent housing and support services to homeless people disabled by severe and persistent mental illness; Gannett House, providing emergency shelter for families and offering 19 rooms fitting up to five people each; Riverhaven, a facility for homeless and runaway youths; Dutchess County Coalition for the Homeless, an overnight shelter for up to 12 adults; and Hillcrest House, a transitional housing facility catering to married couples and single adults only, with a maximum capacity of 75. The average stay in Dutchess County shelters is two weeks-even at the overnight facility-and people stay up to two years in transitional housing. In 2001, according to Hudson River Housing, 2,152 people were served by these various facilities and programs. That includes 149 families and 1,697 single people; of these, 1,008 were male and 1,144 were female.