Sunday, January 11, 2004
THE DENVER POST
HOMELESS HELPED OFF THE STREET, BY BILL BRIGGS

His job might be a lot like yours - the barrage of meetings, a dose of mentoring, keeping an eye on his team.

But the big payoff in Immanuel Atwell's workday comes when he hands a key to one of his guys. A key to the that trainee's first apartment, his own home after months hopping from shelter to shelter, living in a car or sleeping on the weedy banks of the South Platte River.

"That right there, is the biggest reward of my life," says Atwell, 27, who in 1999 tasted homelessness for one month when he was released from prison after serving time for auto theft. "Watching their facial expression as I give them the keys - I get constantly rewarded in my life."

With his perpetual smile, Atwell heads emergency services at New Genesis, Denver's only homeless-assistance program for working people. The concept is to move clients into independent housing within three months by treating homelessness as a temporary condition.

New Genesis has applied for funds through the Season to Share program.

Accountability is the New Genesis rule. Everybody in the program must get a job. Everybody must pay for his or her stay. Alcohol isn't allowed. Neither are excuses.

This isn't a warehouse. It's closer to a rehab center where homelessness is seen as the addiction. "Everything is to take the uniform of homelessness off and get them back into the community," says Page Peary, Executive Director of New Genesis.

"It's really a great tragedy watching a 25-year-old man leave prison and become a 45-year-old man with a shopping cart," Peary says. "The art form is getting that 45-year-old man gainfully employed. That's what we do."

They do it about 500 times a year, boasting a 70 percent success rate for clients who complete the first 30 days of the program, Peary says.

And it's not as if New Genesis accepts easy cases to pad its stats. Operating out of the basement of Central Presbyterian Church at 17th Avenue and Sherman Street, the shelter takes in folks with mental illnesses or deep drug dependencies, and those who have spent a long blur of nights if Denver's detox unit.

When they arrive at the front door, they are evaluated and given one of the 105 bunks. (A second shelter at 16th Avenue and Ogden Street offers another 30 beds.) Atwell is one of the greeters assessing the visitors' condition and needs. He also presides over weekly meetings where the men discuss their work, finances, frustrations and staying clean.

From day one, the clients help with cooking and cleaning at the shelter. Then, using a citywide network of businesses, New Genesis quickly plugs the clients into jobs at construction sites, hotels, restaurants and retail stores. They must pay $6 a night to bed down at the shelter as they rediscover the basic notions of being on time and saving money. They relearn social skills through group talks. And slowly, they shed the street.

"For me, it taught me to respect myself," Atwell says. "It taught me that I'm not just a walking void. They believed in me where no one else gave me a chance."

After about three months in the program and with a few hundred dollars socked away, the men and women are placed in one of the 30 apartments that New Genesis leases around the metro area. The clients are paired up and must pay 80 percent of the rent. "I don't know of another program like ours," Peary says. "Being able to take a homeless person and move them to safety and independence - to have a continuum of care that treats the whole person - I think it's really unique."

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