Help From One Who’s Been There

Buck Murphy has housed crack addicts and hitchhikers in his modest Balboa Island home. He’s made money, and he’s lost everything. At 67, Murphy’s good health and spry spirit belie a rough background that includes years of drug abuse and a stint in prison.

Now Murphy is disciplined and sober. He chugs aloe juice, he advocates colon cleansing, he exercises and he takes scads of vitamins every morning. More important, he’s launched a men’s ministry--casually known as Buck’s Boys--that has turned around the lives of many down-and-outers who swear that Buck is their angel.

They include men like Gary Sandstrom, who collapsed on a street corner last month, strung out after a night of smoking methamphetamine. He had been clean for more than nine months, but couldn’t resist a dose of the drug, with its warmly familiar high.

After the high became a low, though, Sandstrom was guilt-ridden for falling back into his addiction. He saw a pay phone down the street and dragged himself off the ground to call Murphy, his surrogate father, for help.

“He said, ‘I’ll be there to pick you up in five minutes,’ ” recalled Sandstrom, 35, wiping his eyes with his tattoo-covered arms. “I’ve been on the right track ever since.”

For a decade, Murphy has been helping men recover from their addictions, counseling them on feelings of shame and forgiving them for their imperfections.

“Buck really pulled me out of the gutter this time,” said Sandstrom, shaking his head. “He saved my life.”

In Murphy’s Costa Mesa office, where he runs the Factory, a corporate apparel business, his desk is lined with vitamin jars. A portrait of Jesus hangs on his front wall near a sheet that reviews Murphy’s priorities, including: “To continually support the masculine legacy” and “To support all men in general.”

He started a men’s group, Christians With Addictions, in 1993, which still meets every Friday night at Mariners Church in Irvine. The group, which now includes women, has grown from about 20 people to more than 70 each week who come to exchange stories about their struggles for sobriety.

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Murphy, a tall man with blue eyes and wild eyebrows, doesn’t counsel women--to avoid any questions of impropriety that might arise from late-night counseling sessions. What’s more, he has a comfort level and camaraderie with men that make it easy for him to gain their trust and hear their secrets.

“He has a special thing with men,” said an executive at a fast-food company, who spoke on condition of anonymity. “He really understands men and what makes them tick.”

Murphy’s list of priorities is the following: God, Health, Wife, Family, Friends, Recovery Men and Men in General.

“If God uses me, that’s good,” said Murphy, whose eyes welled with tears at the thought of his flock sliding back into abuse. “I cry when I talk about this because I’ve been so broken.”

Murphy finds men who need encouragement, then calls them every morning and meets with them for coffee once a week. On a typical day, Murphy makes at least 50 phone calls to the down and out who rely on his outreach and compassion.

“Buck has always brought home stray dogs,” said his wife, Nancy. “He gets in their faces and makes them accountable.”

His clients range from uneducated streetwalkers to chief executives, to pilots, lawyers, doctors, pastors and banking executives. They say that he’s the one who turned them around, who made time for them and who gave them the courage to live without drugs.

“Buck finally got my attention,” said Marty Rivera of Tustin, who is a recovering heroin addict. “He’s got so much love in his heart for people who are hurting.”

Murphy’s compassion springs from his pain.

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Born in Long Beach, Murphy grew up by the beach, where he surfed, snorkeled and basked in the sun. But he also became acquainted with drugs--marijuana to cocaine--from musicians he met in school and on the sand.

He resisted the lure of drugs, though, until he was 50, when he fell into an addiction to cocaine. And in 1989 and 1990, Murphy spent 19 months in prison for cocaine possession. That time was also hard on his family, which was left in Orange County to pick up the pieces.

“We had disgraced what we stood for,” said Nancy, his wife of 40 years--also a Christian--who says she dabbled in drugs with her husband for only a few months before he was sentenced.

The two attended high school together in Long Beach. They were married, moved to Ventura and raised two children before settling down in Balboa Island. During that time, Murphy has started several businesses, gambling each time--and not always winning.

When Murphy was sent to prison, it took Nancy months to forgive him. But his thriving men’s ministry brought meaning and purpose back to their lives.

“Buck’s testimony has brought people out of the woodwork,” said Nancy, who has shared her home with many a downtrodden addict to give them a chance in a safe environment. “He wants to honor God because God got him through a tough time.”

Murphy credits his devotion to Christianity with cutting off the shackles of shame that came with his prison sentence. He had become a Christian in 1971, but had lost touch with his religion when he slid back into sundry addictions.

“Drugs break your communication with God,” he said. “You no longer can feel his presence.”

In his Christians With Addictions group, Murphy shares his story about getting sucked under by drugs and the redemption of his new, clean life.

If one of Buck’s Boys falls off the wagon, Murphy helps escort the victim back to rehabilitation and continues to check on him, visit him and give him encouragement. Last week, for example, he took a friend who was high on the painkiller Percocet back to a hospital for treatment.

“These guys relapse; they fall back,” Murphy said. “It’s not a lack of character. It’s a disease.”