Magical moments occur unexpectedly.
I was present for one a couple of weeks ago. The occasion was the grand opening of Francie’s Place, a 15-unit subsidized apartment building on Jefferson Avenue a few blocks north of Cherokee Street.
The building used to be a saloon. It was vacant for years until Gateway Housing First renovated it. Gateway Housing First is an organization that believes it’s easier to help a person who needs help if that person is not sleeping on a grate, or in a doorway, or in a tent down by the river. First stabilize, then treat. That’s the theory.
Francie’s Place is named after Francie Broderick. She started her career in social work at the State Hospital in the days when de-institutionalization was touted as humane. Broderick saw that the effect was to dump people on the street who could not easily navigate on their own. She left the hospital and joined the newly formed Places for People.
She stayed there for years. She became executive director. She is a smart, strong-willed person. We have been friends for years.
As I waited on the sidewalk for the speeches and ribbon-cutting, I chatted with Cathy Carmody, a former caseworker for Places for People. She was the caseworker for Norman Sussman. He used to call me a lot. I always hung up on him. That’s because he was a nonstop talker. I once gave him a ride to the county courthouse for an eviction hearing. He talked all the way to the courthouse and he wouldn’t stop talking even after the judge asked him to. The judge gave him some latitude because Sussman was on a mental health rental subsidy. The judge put a temporary hold on the eviction and Carmody got Sussman a new place.
But the nature of working with people living on the street with mental issues does not lend itself to happy endings. The name Francie’s Place is a nod to CJ’s Place, a similar entity on the near north side.
Charity Jean’s mom had severe mental problems and then died of a brain tumor when Charity was 19. Shortly thereafter, Charity began hearing voices and hallucinating. She self-medicated. She wrote and sang sad songs. She had a generous spirit, and that was her undoing. A diligent caseworker could find her an apartment, but she’d soon be evicted because she allowed people from the street to move in. After losing one apartment in such a manner, she ended up in the psych unit of St. Anthony’s Medical Center.
When she was released, a Places for People caseworker took her to a motel on North Lindbergh. She left her there for the night and promised to be back in the morning to help her find an apartment. Charity was murdered that night, apparently by somebody she had invited in.
Broderick, by then the executive director of Places for People, decided the agency needed a secure place with a locked door and somebody at the front desk 24 hours a day. Also, a place where people could get services in-house.
That vision became CJ’s Place, an 18-unit apartment that opened in 2004 and is still going strong.
Broderick retired in 2011 and was succeeded by Joe Yancey. He was one of the speakers. So was Cynthia Duffe, the executive director of Gateway Housing First. She is also a veteran of Places for People. In 2017, Places for People transferred its housing component to Gateway Housing First.
Teka Childress is Gateway’s program director. She has the unusual distinction of having been named after a saint — Saint Tekakwitha — before the saint was canonized. Chidress’ mother was a philosophy professor at SLU and knew the story of the Mohawk-Algonquin woman.
The name fit. Childress joined the Catholic Workers. She worked with the homeless. She established a Winter Outreach program. She won the national Dorothy Day award. She became a BJC outreach mental healthcare worker. Her fellow Catholic Workers named one of their communal homes after her — Teka House.
She puts up with the fact that she is generally known as Saint Teka. The thought struck me, as I stood on the sidewalk, that she was one of several saints present. A gathering of saints, I thought as I looked around.
Then came the magical moment.
J.B. Matthews is a member of the welcoming committee for Gateway Housing First. When new folks get housing, they sometimes want to talk to somebody who has lived what they have lived. Matthews has.
He’s 44. He lives in a Gateway Housing First apartment complex in University City. Before that, he lived in a tent encampment by the river. Before that, he was in the St. Louis Justice Center. He did nine months for arson. He told me he was staying, without permission, in an abandoned warehouse and lit a fire to stay warm.
He was at the grand opening to welcome the new residents. He was taking photos with his phone. He wanted to get a photo of himself helping to cut the ribbon, but he couldn’t take a selfie and hold the oversized scissors at the same time.
So he looked around. He saw a fellow sitting nearby on a folding chair.
“Excuse me sir, Can you take my picture?” Matthews asked.
“Of course, sir,” said the man. And he did.
The man who took the photo was Ken Kranzberg. He was there with his wife, Nancy. They are among the region’s most notable philanthropists.
It was a quick, friendly interaction. A moment of connection between two people from different worlds.
It was magical.
Francie’s Place is off to a good start, I thought.
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Bill McClellan | Post-Dispatch
News columnist
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