Integrity House Needs a Home

They sit together eating a lunch of salad and spaghetti off of paper plates, a collection of people who might never have crossed paths: A screenwriter, a Vietnam War medic, an armored-truck driver, a nurse and a former homeless woman abused since birth.

They were brought together with equalizing ferocity by traumatic brain injuries. The companionship and their common purpose keep them coming to Integrity House, a nonprofit group in north Fullerton where people with such injuries and the developmentally disabled can help each other improve their lives.

“A lot of people wouldn’t have any friends if they weren’t here,” said D.W. Owen, 55, a screenwriter who suffered the life-altering consequences of brain trauma during an attempted suicide about a year ago.

Founded in 1997, the organization helps its 75 members find housing, counseling and jobs. But its most important function may be the clubhouse environment that gives people a chance to build friendships, and a place where no one gawks at their reversals of fortune or judges them.

But the organization’s future is in doubt. By September, it may have to shut down its job training program, which has helped 20 people find work since April--jobs at places ranging from video stores to Cal State Fullerton. The reason: Integrity House’s lease in its industrial park location runs out Aug. 15 and, for the better part of six months, finding the right home has proved to be a Herculean task.

It can’t stay at its current location, even if the group could pay close to $2,000 a month more than the $4,000 it already pays, because the state Department of Rehabilitation has declared the premises dangerous. The agency contends that the many cars in the industrial park near a railroad spur and busy Imperial Highway pose a threat to disabled people who have to navigate around them.

If Integrity House doesn’t find a new home by September, it could lose as much as $10,000 a month that it gets from the state agency. That would almost certainly mean layoffs among the staff of 12, and cancellation of the work program, said center founder and Executive Director Cathy DeMello.

The organization’s dream move would be into Old Town Fullerton, or at least the downtown part of the city, DeMello said. With MetroLink and a bus station, it offers the best opportunities for public transportation. Also, many of the clubhouse members live near downtown.

Because people who have suffered brain injuries often have poor short-term memories, they can sometimes find themselves confused and wandering. Direct routes to and from Integrity House are imperative, DeMello said.

Redevelopment Makes Odds Even Longer

But it may be out of reach for a place like Integrity House to move into the fast-changing area, where rents are rising and the city hopes to increase its sales tax base through retail businesses.

“It’s going to very difficult for them to be where they want,” said Gary Chalupsky, executive director of the city’s redevelopment agency. “The train station is there and the bus station is there, and it would be very convenient for the clients that Integrity House helps. But I’m not sure how they’re going to get what they want.”

Old Town Fullerton is in a redevelopment zone, targeted for intensive revitalization aimed at luring retail and other commercial tenants. It is not zoned for social service facilities such as Integrity House, Chalupsky said.

The organization could seek a zoning variance, but such a move would cost it $1,500 in application fees for a permit that even DeMello concedes is unlikely to be granted.

The prospects are frustrating DeMello and real estate agent David Giglio of Grubb & Ellis in Orange. The right 5,000-square-foot building has never been so hard to locate, he said.

“Finding the most convenient and ideal place for the people that Integrity House serves has become like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Giglio said.

The organization has eyed three locations for a new clubhouse, said Giglio, who helped Integrity House find its current home. “The biggest frustration was that we found a place that was perfect, just outside the redevelopment zone, and we pretty much had agreed on a deal with the owner, but someone bought it from under us,” Giglio said.

As was the case with that buyer, “When the city gives you a loan, it becomes your partner, and it obviously leans toward retail to revitalize downtown and to get the tax dollars that justify why the city gave an owner this money.”

Integrity House envisions starting a 1950s-style diner to be called “Yesterday,” where malts and vinyl albums would be sold. The foot traffic in the central part of the city would be a boon for such an enterprise, DeMello said.

But downtown’s increasing attractiveness to a wide range of businesses is making the prices alone prohibitive.

“Three years ago, we would have had between 30 and 40 decent opportunities of places to go,” Giglio said. “Now, we’re lucky if we can find half a dozen.”

Which means that Integrity House in all likelihood will have to settle for a place that won’t work out as well.

“They may have to take that extra bus or walk a bit,” Chalupsky said.

Some wonder if the difficulty in finding a place in the hot new district is because Integrity House serves the brain-injured and developmentally disabled.

Landlords Acting Leery, Agent Says

Giglio said he hasn’t heard any blatant comments from property owners leery of renting to people with disabilities or brain trauma, but he has seen concern on the faces of some when they hear about the people Integrity House serves.

“No one’s stupid enough to flat out say it, but you can see it in their eyes, and in the questions they ask,” Giglio said.

Questions such as: What kinds of things are these people going to be doing? Will they be hanging around outside? Have you had any problems with them?

For DeMello, the reality is starting to sink in: Barring a near miracle, Integrity House probably will have to move to a place outside downtown Fullerton, and special care will have to be taken to make sure people don’t get lost or hurt during their trips to a new clubhouse.

With change coming, Integrity House has seen a flurry of activity. Portions of the clubhouse are being cleared to reduce the amount of rental space in case state funding ends and the organization has to stay put for a while.

Many Integrity House members are eager to lend a helping hand, to feel useful.

John Statkus, 33, calls going to the clubhouse “work,” and he means it. Once, he was a young husband, former Marine and armored-truck driver for Wells Fargo who had married his wife, Carrie, only a year before. On May 16, 1991, he took a bullet in the forehead during a botched robbery.

The wound to the brain, which left Statkus struggling to speak and slow to move, has also kept him from working. He began going to Integrity House in 1994, when the clubhouse was still in Orange. Since then, he’s made it his responsibility to keep the place spotless.

His wife, 31, has seen the difference that the Integrity House connection has made for him.

“He’ll come home, laughing, with some good stories about what happened at the clubhouse,” she said. “He’s proud of the work he’s doing.”

Statkus often buys candy at the clubhouse for his 7-year-old daughter and 5-year-old son. “They’re excited to see him and they always ask him what he has in his pockets,” Carrie Statkus said. “He gets to be Daddy.”

It’s for people like Statkus that Integrity House must survive and thrive, DeMello said.

“These people, and those who came here with developmental disabilities, all came from different places,” DeMello said. “But here, they’re family.”