Nicholas James Ridley Nelson stood across from a row of bunk beds at the First City Haven homeless shelter as people shuffled around him, preparing dinner — for the last time.
“The program here has been excellent,” Nelson said. “It’s been real motivation for me. I’ve been very driven by it.”
Over the last several months, Nelson stayed at the shelter and participated in the work training program there.
“You accepted it as volunteer work for a while,” he said. “And then eventually, once you showed you had structure in your life, they were able to actually give you a paycheck in your name.”
First City Homeless Services, the organization that ran Ketchikan’s primary homeless shelter, shut its doors permanently on June 14. The shelter had operated for 16 years but dealt with increasing community pushback once it started 24-hour services in a city-owned building downtown.
The shelter’s board of directors blamed “continual obstructive behavior” by the Ketchikan City Council for the decision. The closure leaves a gaping hole in a city that has increasingly struggled with homelessness, leaving the fate of hundreds of people without housing uncertain.
Nelson said he’s sorry to see the shelter go, but it had a lasting impact on his life, connecting him with religious and other supportive services.
“The fact that I’ve been able to go through what I’ve been able to go through in the time frame that I was able to go through it, in a mildly structured environment, I find that amazing,” Nelson said. “And (to) find Jesus in the process, I also find that amazing, considering I’m an addict. So moving forward with my life now is much easier.”
Steve Hayburn works as a probation officer in Ketchikan and also served as vice president of the shelter’s board.
“We’re tired of jumping through hurdles,” said Hayburn while taking a break from preparing dinner. “We’re done.”
Hayburn explained that many of the clients he supervises used the shelter’s services and were employed there.
“It’s very sad to see that this day has come because these people who are working here have otherwise been un-hireable,” he said. “And so they come in, we take a chance on them. And some people work out, some don’t. A lot of people work here and they move on to other things, so kind of like a stepping stone for them. I’ve seen a lot of success with that.”
Hayburn became emotional as he talked about the decision to close down.
“I’m really agitated with City Council right now. Like I’m very, very angry with them,” he said. “And a lot of members who just basically, to me, have not listened at all.”
Ending the lease
After months of back and forth, the Ketchikan City Council voted in March to terminate the shelter’s lease this summer. Hayburn said ultimately, they didn’t feel the shelter had the community’s support.
“To us, they didn’t want this,” he said. “They didn’t want what we were offering, what we were doing here. And it just came to a head.”
Hayburn said they experienced “bullying tendencies” from the city, including an incident where he said council member Jai Mahtani came to the shelter and threatened to fire their CEO, Deborah Asper.
Mahtani said he never threatened to fire anyone, but did go down to the shelter to talk to Asper about loitering.
“I just said, ‘Just take care of the situation outside the shelter,’” Mahtani said. “It doesn’t look good, with so many people around.’”
Mahtani said at one point they worked with the shelter to get people to use a side door instead of the front door, to try to reduce that loitering, which was at the heart of his concerns. He said nearby residents shouldn’t have to witness inappropriate behavior or worry about their children playing outside.
“The people walking at night don’t — are not exposed to people smoking or using bad language or whatever,” Mahtani said. “Making out, I mean, there were residents that were making out outside that shelter.”
Mahtani said businesses complained of defecation on their property and female employees being afraid to walk to their car at night.
“People are scared,” he said. “People’s property values are dropping because it just got out of hand.”
Mahtani acknowledged that the problem will likely get worse in the short term. As of the first week of July, the city has not presented any plan to fill the void left by First City’s closure.
City Manager Delilah Walsh said she understood the council’s concerns but was distressed that it didn’t have any next steps.
“The only part I don’t like is just that it’s closed and there’s no transition plan, and there’s nothing to say, ‘This is how we’re gonna move forward,’” Walsh said. “So that’s really just, not having a plan or strategy, that’s the thing that is most concerning.”
Walsh said the city has marijuana tax funds designated for homeless services, but another organization would need to step up to receive them because the city doesn’t have the expertise to provide the services.
First-hand perspective
Shelter participant Tristan Gavin has been frustrated by the outsider perception of the homeless population. He said without a secure place to stay, which provides something as simple as an address to receive mail, being homeless becomes like a full-time job.
“You end up having to worry about where you’re gonna sleep at night, you’re worried about all your stuff (getting stolen), you’re worried about if you’re gonna have a meal, you worry about if you can take a shower, finding a place to take a shower, or everything,” Gavin said. “And it just adds up.”
Gavin said he came to Ketchikan last summer and “got stuck,” and has been staying at the shelter since then. He hoped to take advantage of the city’s new reunification program, which would give him a plane ticket back to Washington. The majority of people who used the shelter’s services though, consider Ketchikan their home and don’t want to leave.
Nearby, Guy Tavares was playing original music on his acoustic guitar.
“We go crazy one more time,” he sang.
Tavares pointed outside and said he lived on this same block as a kid, more than 40 years ago.
“I can look at all these people right now, I know every (expletive) one of them, man. I love them, and they’re good (expletive) people. We’re just in a bad spot right now,” Tavares said. “Doesn’t happen all the time. We’re not (expletive) like, hopeless. Right now we’re just homeless.”
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Disclosure: Jai Mahtani is a member of KRBD’s nonprofit board of directors, which does not direct the newsroom.