Drug-Free Hope : Troubled Youths Learn About ‘Family,’ Love, Selves

Marjorie clutched herself nervously near the rear of the sparsely occupied room in which an ethnically mixed group of teen-agers stood in a circle, focusing their eyes on her.

“Good afternoon, family, I feel depressed today,” she said, rubbing the block-type tattoos on her hands. “I feel like getting high today. I don’t know. But my New Year’s resolution is to quit using drugs. I’ve been doing drugs since I was 11, but I’ve been sober for five months. I really like being here. Thank you, family.”

“Thank you, Marjorie,” the others in the group responded in unison.

The 17-year-old girl smiled, then turned to the next person in the circle, who began talking about happiness, sadness, the holidays and sobriety.

Pride House

The session in the circle was being held in Pride House in Van Nuys, a nonprofit rehabilitation program that uses therapy, positive reinforcement and peer pressure to assist troubled juvenile delinquents, alcoholics and drug addicts. The program is housed on North Sepulveda Boulevard in a single dormitory building, with residents generally sharing rooms with two beds. The real names of the residents have been changed to protect their privacy.

On the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, the teen-agers had gathered at the urging of the staff to discuss their hopes and fears about the holiday and the coming year. As each resident spoke, the others turned toward the speaker.

For the 70 residents of the home, most of whom have been sent there by law enforcement agencies, the holidays inspired a roller coaster of emotions, ranging from jubilation to despair.

Many of the teen-agers said they felt depressed and wanted to be home with their families, even though problems in the home may have helped push them to alcohol or drug use. Others were concerned about their friends, fellow gang members who they feared would get hurt or shot during New Year’s parties.

One 16-year-old girl, who was nearing the completion of a year’s residency, said she was looking forward to leaving, but told the members of the group that she would miss them and that she loved them for helping her.

Almost all of them told of getting high on past New Year’s Eves. They said the holiday season gave them just another excuse to get drunk or stoned. This year staying sober was one of the rules of their stay at Pride House.

Brian, who came to the home last year after having been a cocaine and alcohol addict since he was 13, said it was one of the only New Year’s Eves he could remember that he would not wind up “dead drunk and face down in the gutter.”

On New Year’s Eve a year ago, the Modesto native was behind bars at Juvenile Hall, serving a sentence for armed robbery and cocaine possession.

“I know I won’t wake up on Jan. 1 with a huge headache, or wonder if I will wake up at all,” said Brian, a thin, blond 18-year-old with slightly darkened skin under his eyes. “I had just gotten to the point where I did drugs because there was nothing else to do. I just didn’t care about myself or anybody at all.”

“There’s a whole gyration of feelings that is sometimes difficult to cope with,” said Elliot Goldstein, the director of Pride House. “The kids think, ‘I should be doing this and doing that, my family needs me and I need to be with them. But, on the other hand, things aren’t really that good with my family, and I really need someone to care about me.’

“Things get very scary and confused for them around this time of year.”

10-Year-Old Program

Goldstein said the Pride House program, which has been in operation for 10 years, symbolizes a new beginning for young people who have been seriously damaged by drugs, alcohol or sexual abuse.

“We raise these kids as we would our own children from birth, see them through the rough times until they leave home,” he said. “We hope they come back and visit every once in a while, but we really want them to get on with their lives.”

The program at Pride House, funded by the parents of residents and by state and local agencies, has won praise from police, who call the strict organization of the program unique. Residents are screened for suitability for the program and are generally referred by juvenile court judges, the county Probation Department, other agencies or their parents. The typical residency period is 12 months.

The rules stipulate that the residents discipline, criticize and support each other. Resident “expediters,” who have seniority in the program, are assigned to keep track of their colleagues every 30 minutes. They are instructed to write up offenders and expose “backsliders” during the group meetings.

The structure of the program was even more rigid than usual during the holidays. Searching for activities to occupy the teen-agers, Goldstein and his staff of 35 scheduled meetings, therapy sessions and work details continuously from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. each day.

Actors Visit

A church group provided Christmas presents during a party. Actors Mike Farrell and Ed Asner paid holiday visits. The New Year’s Eve schedule included a showing of “The Empire Strikes Back” and bingo games with prizes and soft drinks.

Brian was one of the residents in a good mood. He was scheduled to leave Pride House in a few months and he was anticipating going to college and studying journalism.

“I’m thankful I’m here now,” he said. “There are times when I hate it, because you have to talk about things in your past that you don’t want to talk about, that you just want to forget. But I appreciate the freedom here. I can talk to my parents now, where I couldn’t talk to them before. And I care about myself.”

But Marjorie, a Pomona resident who has been in the program for two months, spent much of New Year’s Eve alone in her room at Pride House, crying. She said she was thinking about the “home girls and boys” with whom she shared the last New Year’s Eve, drinking and smoking PCP.

She started smoking PCP six years ago, she said. “I kept getting picked up, but I didn’t care,” she recalled. “I needed money, and I would do anything in order to get money to get high.”

The temptation to get high this season was still strong, Marjorie said, but her desire to stay on the road to sobriety was stronger.

“I rebelled against this program at first,” said the girl, who was picked up four times by police for possession of PCP and was sent to Juvenile Hall before being transferred to Pride House. “It’s hard to accept love and care when you’re not used to it. But these people are so caring. Any problem I have, they will help.”

Marjorie paused. “Being in here during the holidays is really hard,” she said, running her hand through her brown-streaked hair. “Last New Year’s Eve, all I wanted was to get high--really, really high. I know it’s wrong, but even now, I keep wanting to be home, wondering how my relationships and friends are doing.”

Marjorie did get a pass to go home to her family in Pomona during Christmas “but things got really violent and bad. Everyone was fighting and arguing. I was lucky I was able to come back here,” she said.

During the day, Marjorie kept her mind off the holiday by joining in a goodby party for the 16-year-old girl resident who had completed the program. But mostly she stayed alone.

“I don’t want to disappoint my mother,” she said. “I really want to show her I can succeed at something, and that I’m not a failure at everything I do. If I can make it here, I can do anything.”

Goldstein said a couple of the residents had left Pride House without authorization over the holidays, although both eventually returned. The doors of the facility are not locked and there is no security, but residents who run away are reported to police. When they return or are caught, they are either sent back to Juvenile Hall or they are taken back into the Pride House program with restrictions on their movements.

“The kids think they can rescue the families and help themselves,” Goldstein said. “But a lot of them find out there’s nothing for them out there.”

At Pride House, Goldstein said, the sense of family is promoted among the residents as in a home. The teen-agers are encouraged to talk and counsel each other. During the daily meetings when all are gathered together, each resident addresses the group as “family,” and the group responds with the resident’s name. A youth can also ask for a “session” with another resident to discuss problems.

“Sometimes it can get very emotional around here,” said Kim Baebler, 35, one of the Pride House counselors. “We go for the root, the real meaning behind what is wrong with a youngster. Sometimes we will be sitting in the meeting and there won’t be a dry eye in the room, because one of them will break down and try to get rid of all this hurt and shame that he’s been suppressing with drugs.

“That’s what makes it all worthwhile for me, to be able to break through,” Baebler said. “When a kid gets in here out of the hall or out from the streets, they might think they’re really hot stuff. But, with our system, the kids tear that down real fast. They will expose that person in front of everyone in the meetings. They’ll say, ‘Hey, man, don’t cop that bad attitude, because you were not acting big and bad when we were just shooting the breeze in the room, so why start that stuff now?’ ”

As New Year’s Eve day progressed, embraces were exchanged, jokes were told and the excitement grew about the bingo games ahead.

“Last year I got dry heaves from taking drugs on New Year’s Eve, and this year I feel good,” said Simon, a 15-year-old who had been with Pride House for three weeks. “This will be my first New Year’s Eve staying sober. I guess I could walk to parties a couple of blocks away, but I won’t. Now, more than ever, my sobriety means a lot to me.”