In mid-March, Shaun Fausz, 25, blond and fresh-faced, left his aunt’s house in Pasco, Washington. Walking to Portland, Oregon, he spent the last of his money on Amtrak fare to San Francisco seeking work on ships. He stumbled onto St. Anthony’s. Directed to Buster’s Place, he showered and slept all night in a chair. Shaun sat talking to me among 100 or so homeless people, mostly men, quietly conversing or dozing at Buster’s Place Drop-In Center at 211 13^th Street.

“I work on boats. Before Pasco, I lived in New Mexico. There is nothing but desert,” he said wryly. “They had no need for a deck hand.”

Shaun discovered here that to work he needed a merchant mariner’s document—a Z-card—which costs much more than he has.

Though his knees were sore from walking, he already had three job interviews. “Once I get that Z-card, I’ll be making all kinds of money again.”

Hearing that the Mayor’s proposed budget cuts will close Buster’s Place on March 31, Shaun observed without this safe haven, “I would probably be sleeping on the streets and end up with that $79 fine I can’t afford. It would put me deeper in debt and make me homeless longer.”

Jennifer Friedenbach, Director of the Coalition on Homelessness, called Mayor Newsom’s plan to re-design the emergency homeless system, “coldly negligent.” It excludes the most vulnerable population, those at the Central City’s only 24-hour drop-in center—women escaping violence, homeless seniors, people with disabilities, and people with substance abuse and severe psychiatric disabilities. 150 people are served daily, 90 every night, and 700 annually—many of them, clearly, repeat users who are unable to navigate the shelter system.

In recent frigid weather, Buster’s caseworker, Louis Roman, said more suffering clients were allowed inside at night. “We’re not supposed to, but we do.”

Said Friedenbach, “San Francisco is balancing its budget on the backs of its most vulnerable.” This proposal would put 150 at-risk people, “out on the cold concrete, some for the first time in their lives with nowhere to go.”

Buster’s is the only place in the Central City to go in an emergency in the middle of the night, the only way to access shelter between 11:00 p.m. and 7:00 a.m. It offers support services and addresses a public health and hygiene crisis with bathrooms and showers, though far more bathrooms are needed.

With, “no walls to climb over, no barriers to push through, it is really low threshold. You can just walk in and get some help,” said Louis.

Louis Roman, who is a certified substance abuse counselor experienced with dual and triple diagnosis HIV/AIDS clients stated, “We were supposed to house people and refer them to appropriate agencies. The aim was to at least get [those who were] sleeping at [the old] Fell Street [drop-in center]… talked to, and, hopefully into their own places.”

“A third of our clients are seniors, 60 or over.” Louis was saddened by the deaths of three people in the last few months. This was exacerbated by the agency’s limited financial ability to refer them to services. “They sit in wheelchairs with heart trouble and other medical problems, and they just aren’t seen.”

Friedenbach stated that two years ago, when Buster’s temporarily replaced the McMillan Drop-In Center, the vision was broader: “We were moving towards not a holding place, but a place of healing,” where the most vulnerable could engage in intensive work with caseworkers to get themselves off the streets. Instead of calling the police, people in psychiatric crisis could go to Buster’s. Case managers could do preventative work with the most traumatized clients, addressing their needs with something as simple, perhaps, as a haircut or a massage in a comfortable healing place where they feel part of the community. This new program, “got intercepted and interrupted,” by the Mayor’s mid-year budget cuts.

Three Buster’s Place attendees, like most unhoused people I have interviewed, were warm, funny, and smart. Their views about the repercussions of this drop-in center’s loss exactly matched that of their advocate/activist counterparts.

The disarmingly charming Shalako Brooks said that in 2005, Kevin Berger, now feature editor for Salon.com, profiled him in San Francisco Magazine. The article no longer appears in full on the magazine’s site, but Google quotes the first sentence, “Ordinary/extraordinary, [Shalako] seemed like just another homeless guy.”

Shalako has a master’s degree in psychology. For 13 years, he was personal and executive assistant to LA film industry heavy-hitters Carol Lombardini (Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers), and Sherry Lansing, CEO of Paramount Pictures.

Finding his partner of 13 years dead “started this whole cycle.” Open about his alcohol addiction, he said, “I’m just screwed up, I hit the skids. That’s all.” He has been in medical detox 13 times and rehab 12, “but I just can’t seem to get over this hump.” He partly drinks to fight insomnia.

A “major alcoholic,” educated and articulate, he found it difficult to convince counselors or half-trained interns that he needed help. He got entrenched in homelessness because it became familiar. He wants to go back to work. “People are impressed that I have a résumé, cover letter, a reference list, and a salary history,” he says.

He was burned out of his SRO hotel, because “some crackhead” lit his floor on fire.

Shalako has used Buster’s Place every day and night for three weeks. With its closure, he would have, “no place to take a shower or use the rest room,” leading to, “more urination and defecation on the street.” He would be forced at 8:00 a.m. to use the Department of Public Health bathroom, “when people are shooting up and passed out in the toilets.”

He feels the larger numbers of people displaced from Buster’s will waste police time when psychiatric problems render clients unable to take care of themselves.

“More people will sleep in doorways and get tickets for trespassing. People need a place to come and feel safe. At least here they’re not going to get hurt.”

Robert, 52, a New Yorker, sleeps at Buster’s nightly. He kidded, “You could be a hostile reporter working undercover for Bill O’Reilly or Rush Limbaugh [who run] off at the mouth that the homeless need to do something, because we work so hard sitting here in these chairs at our microphones that we are about to pass out from exhaustion.”

Robert observed that when Buster’s closes, “all these people will be scattered elsewhere,” making dealing with homelessness harder. “Good luck finding them, keeping track of who they are, where they are, what they are up to.”

If they decide to come up with funding, the caseworkers could work one-on-one, “which is basically needed.”

Robert notes that Buster’s protects people from criminalization by police and civilians when forced to walk the streets in certain areas alone after dark. He expressed feeling a sense of security, community, and connectedness seeing other homeless acquaintances each day at Buster’s.

Shaun, Shalako, and Robert echo Friedenbach’s argument against the Mayor’s cutting $1,000,000 from next year’s budget for this critical service.

Caseworker Louis pointed to reports that Seattle and LA are, “doing wonderful things. They build housing, and they put people in there. Here it’s the opposite.” He felt San Francisco is held back by the judgment of City Hall and the public, “coming down on people because of behaviors or lifestyles.”

On Friday, the Ides of March, James Chionsini of HAT, the Healthcare Action Team, led a demonstration at City Hall. Nurses saved Bruce Allison, garbed in Caesar’s robes, from the Mayor’s thousand cruel sword cuts to vital social services for seniors, people with disabilities, homeless people, and others.

Bobby Bogan, of Seniors Organizing Seniors, addressed the crowd: “Last year at this time, we were celebrating the biggest budget in [the City’s] history, six billion dollars. There’s too many big salaries. This year, the money ran out. I know what wasteful spending and mismanaging money is. It’s like constantly pumping gas into a car [without an] engine.

On the steps, Supervisor Chris Daly told me, “Every year, we are back with proposals from the administration around cuts to basic health and human services. This rally… is righteous. The way to [deal with our budget problems] is to make sure the most vulnerable are protected, and… those who have the most to give, give the most. We are going to fight like hell to stop the closure of Buster’s Place.”

Carol

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