Former clients struggling with illnesses after Salvation Army cutbacks

Tony Freeman frets over a streaky mirror in his bedroom.

"If I take care of my body, I've got to take care of my room," he says, as he shuffles around in pajamas with a bottle of blue window cleaner.

Just two weeks ago, the 41-year-old was depressed and suicidal at the thought of being homeless. Again.

Now, he has his own place. He worries about the light switch being on when the sun shines through his window.

"Gotta save energy," he says, flicking the switch.

Freeman was living at The Salvation Army's mental health group home to cope with a cocaine addiction, anxiety and a mood disorder. It was home - a place where he learned life skills, table manners, how to set goals, basic housekeeping, exercise and ways to deal with his drug dependency.

He is five months sober.

But then the nonprofit that helps the valley's homeless and mentally ill made plans to close three of its programs at the Owens Avenue campus, near Main Street, to cope with millions of dollars in debt. The cost-cutting measure displaced about 75 homeless and mentally ill clients and forced 27 people out of work.

INDEPENDENT LIVING

At the time, Freeman stressed over the decision.

"It was like I had a hundred-pound weight on my shoulders," Freeman says. "But now that I'm here, all of that has been removed, which is great. It's just great. If I had to choose one word for it, it would be 'beautiful.' "

As long as he stays sober, Southern Nevada Adult Mental Health Services will pay for his rent and utilities until he finds a job or his federal supplemental income benefits come through. The four-bedroom house is in a small cul-de-sac in the northwest valley and has a kitchen, washer, dryer and a two-car garage.

A certified nursing assistant makes sure Freeman and his three roommates, who also were Salvation Army clients, take their medications and have food in the cupboards. The assistant also takes them to doctor appointments and sponsor meetings. Sometimes they eat home-cooked meals together, like smothered pork chops, or see a movie or go to the grocery store for supplies.

A coalition of agencies met last month to form a plan to absorb the 75 mental health clients who use The Salvation Army's services. That includes getting them into therapy and putting a roof over their heads. But those nonprofits also are dealing with fewer resources.

The Salvation Army connected Freeman, a Las Vegas native, with resources to get him into the home.

With the move came more independence, which can bring more stress - and temptation - to someone learning how to live without drugs.

"If you don't have coping skills, you will walk out of here and end up in a bar or jail or in a hospital," Freeman says. "With coping skills, I'll be able to sit down and talk with my other roommates when a situation arises instead of yelling and cursing and running out the door and getting high or drunk because I'm mad. I can call someone and tell them how I'm feeling and get positive feedback."

SALVATION ARMY STRUGGLES

For years, The Salvation Army was filling the gap created by dwindling state and federal funds, but it no longer can afford to do so. One program, which wasn't identified, has a $500,000 deficit each year. And private donors aren't giving as much anymore.

But the closures could jeopardize more than $700,000 in federal funding used communitywide for emergency shelter for severely mentally ill individuals with substance abuse problems.

Michele Fuller-Hallauer, a coordinator with the Southern Nevada Regional Planning Coalition's Committee on Homelessness, says Southern Nevada Adult Mental Health Services and WestCare have committed to taking over the programs.

Now, the parties must sign an agreement that needs to be approved by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development as an upcoming funding application deadline looms.

"It's really unfortunate that this has happened and has unfolded the way it has," Fuller-Hallauer says. "However, we are using this as an opportunity to redesign our system and bring all of our community partners together to maximize the services we provide to the community. We are using this unfortunate event to really start making some changes."

Members of the regional homeless subcommittee say they were blindsided by The Salvation Army's decision to close the programs. They say they could have done something earlier if there had been more communication about the nonprofit's budget issues.

"We could have stepped in," says committee member Jodie Gerson, with Southern Nevada Adult Mental Health Services.

Rhonda Lloyd, a major at The Salvation Army, says she was given short notice from her organization and apologized for the lack of communication.

While its intensive mental health care services are gone, The Salvation Army will continue to manage clients with minor mental health issues through the adult rehabilitation program. Those clients are often simultaneously battling mental health and substance abuse issues.

"Of course it has been difficult; it was a hard decision to make," Lloyd says. "I think through a lot of prayer and a lot of cooperation through the community, it will turn out best for everyone."

Freeman, the client, understands the budget shortfall and why the nonprofit shut down the programs. They include a group home for the chronically mentally ill that served 42 people, a semi-independent housing program offered through Clark County's mental health court that served 32 people, and the organization's outreach program.

Services that will continue at the Owens Avenue campus include the day resource center, vocational programs, children's programs, apartments and meals.

All but eight of the displaced clients have been housed in permanent supportive housing, independent living or group home settings. They have until Oct. 26 to move out of the supportive housing program. For now, The Salvation Army is holding onto and administering their medications.

And some of the laid-off workers have been hired by other agencies, Lloyd says.

Freeman harbors no ill will toward the organization and plans to continue attending group therapy sessions at the Owens Avenue campus. He still wears a Salvation Army bracelet with the words "SAVED MY LIFE" on it.

"God and The Salvation Army saved my life," Freeman says. "Everything God didn't want me to do, I was doing. I was doing the devil's will. But God got my life back on the right track. I don't want to forget where I came from. I want everyone to know who saved my life."

Contact reporter Kristi Jourdan at kjourdan@reviewjournal.com or 383-0440.