The Clearwater Homeless Intervention Project was anything but popular when Police Chief Sid Klein introduced the idea 10 years ago.
An emergency shelter near downtown, in the middle of a neighborhood, raised the ire of residents. City officials were dubious about where the money would come from. And Klein's rule that any homeless individual seeking free food from the soup kitchen next door must prove residency or sign up for a "CHIP identification card" made him the target of homeless advocates.
"We were called the Gestapo," recalls Ed Brant, executive director of CHIP.
But since opening in 1998, CHIP has defied the skeptics. Crime around the shelter decreased, thanks to a police substation located inside (another unique feature). Property values have risen. And for the nearly 100 people who frequent CHIP each day for services like laundry and mental health counseling, the shelter's carrot-and-stick approach is motivating its mostly single male clientele to seek independence.
"Our goal is to not see anybody after they leave here," Brant says, adding that only 20 percent of the clients who enter CHIP come back. "The rest, I assume, are doing well."
As the homeless situation in Tampa and St. Petersburg reaches crisis level, and as county leaders brainstorm ways to proceed with the 10 Year Plan to End Homelessness in the face of dwindling resources, CHIP and another Clearwater-based program, the Homeless Emergency Project, are finding innovative solutions to decades-old problems. These two programs could be models of how to effectively deal with the homeless crisis throughout Tampa Bay. But will Hillsborough and Pinellas follow suit?
One mile away from CHIP, in the middle of a working-class neighborhood across from the Clearwater Country Club, a five-block array of single-family homes and apartment complexes gives shelter to 244 homeless individuals and families. This is the site of the Homeless Emergency Project (HEP). Instead of housing people and then pushing them across the city in search of other services, executive director Barbara Green has brought the other services in-house.
"We started looking at what we were missing in a person's life," Green says with an Alabama twang. "So we started bringing providers in."
Through partnerships with providers like Westcare, Morton Plant Hospital and Able Body, HEP clients have full access to employment services, educational programs and physical, mental and dental health professionals. Children of families staying at HEP have access to after-school programs, tutoring and recreational activities.
This holistic approach of providing several services in a one-stop campus setting is one of the key initiatives in Pinellas County's 10 Year Plan to End Homelessness, and HEP's successes on a small scale could signify the benefits to the rest of county.
Last year, 266 individuals avoided hospital stays after seeing a Morton Plant Hospital nurse at HEP, saving $1.1 million that would have been picked up by taxpayers. Over 2,000 people have passed through HEP's free dental clinic since it opened 10 years ago. Over 1,000 homeless individuals are helped by the program each year.
And while other agencies are experiencing a slump in funds, Green's 40-year presence in the city has allowed her to build relationships with neighbors and city leaders alike. HEP's success stories have led to large contributions from the community, like this year's $1 million Challenge grant from the Eckerd Family Foundation. As support grows, so does the facility; Green plans to add 15 more emergency housing units and 20 more transitional units in 2007. Unlike other shelter programs, usually the victim of a NIMBY attitude, Green says HEP has been welcomed by the neighborhood.
"Our goal was never to look like a shelter," she says. "We don't have any loitering, and it doesn't look institutional, so why would anyone have a problem with that?"
But even with more units, Green says HEP is just one organization; the rest of the county has to step up to provide transitional and affordable housing.
"Agencies like mine can't do it alone," she says. "The problem is not going away."
Chief Klein, who also acts as president of CHIP, says Clearwater is unique in that it has approached the city's homeless situation with compassion, without compromising safety or creating an open door policy that would attract even more homeless to the city.
At the core of that approach is CHIP's rules mandating that all those seeking food either prove residency or obtain a CHIP identification card. CHIP cards can only be obtained if the client has a job or is in the process of finding one.
"We found out very quickly that food is a really big motivator," Klein says. "Now, the CHIP I.D. card is like gold in this city."
In addition, Klein directed two patrols of bike officers to make contact with the homeless and connect them with services.
"We haven't given up our law enforcement work, but we've found we can help the homeless, too," Klein says. "I think we've come to realize clearly homelessness is not a crime. The tired methods of traditional law enforcement — moving the problem away, hoping it will help — don't work anymore."
He's hoping the rest of city feels the same way. Earlier this week, Klein proposed a $1.8 million expansion of CHIP that would develop the facility into a two-block wide campus to accommodate more transitional and affordable housing. If approved, CHIP would purchase commercial buildings fronting Cleveland Street and turn them into mixed-use complexes with transitional housing on the second floor and leased retail on the first floor.
"The police have been a large part of this system," he says. "Often times police can — because of our visibility — be a catalyst for social change. That's exactly what we're doing with CHIP."
This article appears in Jan 17-23, 2007.