Providing Temporary Shelter From Winter’s Cold

They stood in the cold in the alley, single file, waiting for the National Guard Armory in Fullerton to open its doors and provide them basic needs for the night: warm food, a hot shower, a soft bed.

Twelve hours later, they knew, it was back to the cold, to find a way to live their day on the streets until the armory doors reopened for another 12-hour cycle.

No one worried that the armory was only temporary relief from homelessness. At least it was there.

“Without it, I’d be sleeping under a bridge tonight,” said Michael Hughes, 36, recently released from four months in the Orange County Jail on a marijuana conviction. “I want a future. I definitely do. But for now, this is how it is.”

Each year, the National Guard armories in Fullerton and Santa Ana provide nightly shelter to the homeless from Dec. 1 through March 31.

But county officials feared that this year, because of the Sept. 11 attacks, the military would not have time for such a distraction. The National Guard did approve, but with some conditions:

The Society of St. Vincent de Paul, the international Catholic group that runs the winter homeless program for the county, would have to provide added security. And all the homeless people would have to provide photo identification.

The group’s program coordinator, Scott Mather, said the more stringent system has worked out well. If anyone needing a bed shows up without a photo ID, the workers take his picture and place him in the file. The Santa Ana Armory on Warner Avenue is at its 150-bed capacity each night. The Fullerton facility, on Brookhurst Road, also has 150 beds and is nearly filled.

“It isn’t the Ritz, but we keep the place warm, and at least they’re safe for the night,” Mather said.

The National Guard had warned that it might have to close the armories some nights because of military needs. But the county’s coordinator for the homeless, Karen Roper, has arranged for churches to take over on those nights.

The doors open at 6 p.m. Clothing is available for those who need it. The homeless sleep on thick pads on the floor. Food and blankets are provided by contract with the Orange County Jail. The homeless are awakened at 4:45 a.m., fed a light breakfast, and are expected to be out by 6 a.m.

“This doesn’t solve the problem of the homeless in cold weather,” said Roper. “But we’re doing something.”

It’s not unappreciated.

Most of the dozens in line Thursday night at the Fullerton Armory had come by county bus, which has two pickup sites for each armory. Several others, like Hughes, had walked miles to get there.

Some smoked. Some carried plastic bags with their belongings. A few rested in line, leaning against worn bicycles. A few were women. Most of the small talk was about when the doors would open.

One who stood out, sharply dressed, wearing makeup and with her hair well groomed, was Victoria Bravo, 38. She’s had trouble finding full-time work, she said, and part-time work can’t pay the rent. Difficulties at home, where she lived with her mother and siblings, had forced her out.

“This is my first night here, and I’m nervous,” she said.

By contrast, Scott Blocker, 51, seemed at home in line, chatting with anyone around. A tall, broad-shouldered man, a machinist, Blocker said he cannot work because he has cancer. He’s been sleeping at armories and shelters for about nine years, on and off, he said. The Fullerton Armory is his favorite.

“The food is pretty good; you get a chance to get cleaned up,” he said. “They kick you out awful early, but you get a good night’s sleep.”

Later, he told another newcomer: “Don’t go to the Santa Ana Armory. Too many winos and weirdos.”

Debra Nacht, 45, clutching a paper cup of coffee, called the armory the best part of her day during a difficult year. Domestic violence broke up her marriage, she said. She had been living in a local shelter for alcoholics but was forced out recently when she couldn’t find work, one of its requirements.

Has she managed to remain sober? “Yes,” she said firmly. And then, “Well, no, I really haven’t. Not since I’ve been back on the street. Liquor has been like self-medication to get me through. Right now I’m terrified what will happen to me.”

A few couples were there, clinging to each other for warmth. Thomas Litzinger, 33, was with a woman too--his mother. He was upbeat about their circumstances, which he vowed would be temporary. With their part-time jobs, they were unable to afford rent payments.

“We’re doing OK,” he said. “This won’t be forever.”

Friday morning, while it was still dark, they were released into the rain. Most got on the county bus. A few headed with Blocker to a McDonald’s for coffee.

Jim Hardy, 51, was heading out to find work. He was determined that nobody think of him as a shiftless street bum.

“I keep getting turned down, but I keep trying,” he said. “As long as you can breathe, you got a chance. And I’m still breathin’.”