02/18/03
PATRICK O'NEILL

A growing number of Oregonians are overrunning food banks, free clinics and programs that help with emergency housing, according to an informal poll of private agencies.

The wretched economy has snatched their jobs, they've fallen through the yawning cracks in the state's welfare system, and they've landed in the frayed and threadbare net of nonprofit charities that keeps them from hitting rock-bottom.

Informally, these charities form a "safety net." But holes in the net are widening. And more of the poor are slipping through, say those who work in social services. The agencies, which often work close to the edge of financial stability, are caught between swelling need and dwindling donations.

Take Snow Cap Community Charities, a Gresham food bank run by a coalition of churches.

Late in the month, when food stamps run out, the Snow Cap warehouse is a beacon of hope. The charity, in the hardscrabble Rockwood neighborhood, dispenses food to the needy. But because of increasing demand, a maximum of 50 families a day receive help. Then volunteers shut the front door and hang a "Closed" sign. The 50-family limit, established six months ago, distresses those still standing in line, but there's no choice, said Judy Alley, the agency's executive director.

"The room is crowded and full of kids, and everyone's needing things urgently," Alley said.

The crush prompted another change: In January, Snow Cap started asking clients to prove they are poor. Before, Snow Cap took people at their word, said Lorie Wageman, the agency's assistant director. Now they must produce bank statements, letters from school officials or ministers, or proof of membership in the Oregon Health Plan.

Rhonda Whitney, executive director of Portland Adventist Community Services, has seen demand for emergency food climb 24 percent from 2001 to 2002.

"We're seeing a much higher percentage of people who have never had to ask for food before," she said. "They look like middle-class people. They're embarrassed. They're telling us that they've lost their job. The recession has really hit."

Like officials at other agencies, she said post-holiday demand didn't drop off the way it usually does. At the same time, food supplies have grown short because of a falloff in donations. Last spring, she said, clients received 25 pounds of food a person. Now they take away 9 pounds.

At the Oregon Trail Chapter of the American Red Cross, executive director Sue Hildick sees grim signs of the fraying safety net. The chapter's revenue is down 9 percent from budget projections for 2003, she said, and the agency has eliminated 10 positions and trimmed services.

Every year, the Red Cross gives needy and elderly people free rides to stores and doctor's appointments. Despite a 10 percent increase in demand for transportation since January, budget cuts threaten the program. The Red Cross has signaled that, come July 1, it will stop service in Yamhill County, where it provides 1,100 rides a year.

In addition, the Red Cross on March 1 will close its Tillamook County service center, which, until recently, provided free first-aid stations at community events.

As school districts cut days from the academic year, the Red Cross is seeing a surge in interest in baby-sitting classes and in "Home Alone" classes that teach children ages 8 to 11 how to react in emergencies. "Parents are reaching out beyond schools to find resources," Hildick said. "It means the infrastructure supporting families and kids isn't as strong as it was."

One of the agency's major jobs is to provide disaster relief, including helping families whose homes have burned.

In December, Hildick saw what she thinks may be the beginning of a disturbing trend: Fire officials called the Red Cross to help two families that lost their homes to fire -- car fires.

"People were living in cars that caught fire," she said. "As people move closer to the poverty line, they tend to downgrade their housing. That's their last step before the streets."

Heather Lyons, homeless program manager for Portland, says the number of people who entered shelters grew nearly 25 percent from the third quarter of 2001 to the third quarter of 2002.

From October through December 2001, 3,496 people entered city housing programs, compared with 4,323 for the same period in 2002.

"People who have never requested assistance before are asking for it now," she said. "And a higher number of poor people are falling further and further down the ladder."

Toward the bottom of the ladder, visitors to William Temple House, in Northwest Portland, seek help with food, prescriptions and mental health counseling.

Allen Hunt, executive director, has seen demand grow as resources shrink. The agency, which also has a location in North Portland, gives food to 12,000 people a year. Demand was up 30 percent in January from the year before.

"We've literally had standing room only in our lobby for emergency food and prescription assistance," he said.

Prescription drug help is financed by a $50,000 annual grant from Multnomah County to aid the working poor -- those who have no health insurance and earn too much to qualify for the Oregon Health Plan.

There's been a 50 percent increase in demand -- even before cuts imposed by the Health Plan take effect, Hunt said.

At that rate, the charity will run out of prescription assistance money in April or May -- 45 to 60 days short of the beginning of its next fiscal year.

"People tell us they just can't find any other source," he said.

The agency provides counseling for about 1,000 people a year. Typically, each client gets 12 sessions with a counselor. But because of a 20 percent increase in demand in recent months, Hunt is considering ways to conserve: cutting the number of visits and using more group therapy sessions.

"I've been at this for 27 years, and this is the broadest cutback in services I've seen," he said. "People who are coming to us are hurting."

Signs of hurt resounded with a hollow ring in Salvation Army kettles in December. Tarah Nimz, a Salvation Army representative, said donations were down 20 percent, while the tide of need rose. The agency had planned to serve 30,000 people during the holiday season. Instead, 49,270 people showed up for free meals, food boxes and other help.

Nimz suspects that hard economic times are squeezing small donors -- the Salvation Army's mainstay. As a result, the agency has cut 14 positions -- about 5 percent of its Portland staff -- and closed a center in Clackamas.

David Eisen, clinical director of Old Town Clinic and Portland Alternative Clinic, is seeing the economic breakdown firsthand.

"We're literally inundated with patients," he said.

Safety-net clinics have seen an upsurge in the number of patients who will be booted off the Oregon Health Plan because they cannot pay monthly premiums. Under Health Plan rules established Feb. 1, patients who have lost their benefits cannot reapply for six months. Those patients flock to safety-net clinics, Eisen said.

"A lot of people will stop going to doctors because they can't get their medications," he said. He dreads March 1, when about 100,000 Health Plan members will see prescription drug and other benefits end.

"We're going to be in a deep world of hurt," he says. "But more importantly, people will be in a deep world of hurt."

Patrick O'Neill; 503-221-8233; poneill@news.oregonian.com